Sanguine Slumber
by Laury the Latrator
Summary: When Agent Lisbon is mysteriously attacked, her team tries desperately to catch whoever is behind it. But is there something she's not telling? Jane will do whatever it takes to save her. If only she would trust him. / Jisbon multichapter.
1. Crimson

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 1_: Crimson

A faint buzzing roused Jane from his dozing. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he reached towards the nightstand, fingers fumbling for the source. Finally grasping his cellphone, he opened it and brought it to his ear.

"Hello." He mumbled.

"Jane, where are you?" The voice he gradually recognized as Cho's asked brusquely.

"The hotel. We've got a case?" He replied, sitting up and swinging his legs over. He checked the clock by his bed. It wasn't even midnight.

"You could say that." Something in the usually calm and controlled agent's tone jolted Jane into awareness.

"What is it, what's wrong?" He inquired swiftly. Cho gave an involuntary sigh, merely a wisp of breath, but it sent Jane's heartbeat into overdrive. He felt perspiration break out on his forehead and in his palms. If he believed in the paranormal he would say that he already knew what his colleague was about to tell him.

"It's Lisbon." He closed his eyes, foresight not lessening the blow. "She's been attacked, in her home." Patrick drew a shaking breath. "Get here as soon as you can." Cho said, a rare note of sympathy audible in his voice. He disconnected the call, leaving Jane listening to the dial tone for several long seconds, paralyzed in shock and dismay.

* * *

><p>When he arrived on the scene ten minutes later, remarkable given that it was all the way across town, it was to see Lisbon's street lined with police cruisers, their flashing lights bathing her house in red and blue. He ducked under the police tape on automatic, his feet carrying him of their own volition towards the open door, the center of the action. His gaze swept around, taking in everything. Uniformed cops were scattered everywhere, gossiping in little tight circles and throwing him looks as he passed. A lone paramedic stood by the open rear doors of an ambulance, checking his watch impatiently. Rigsby held a distraught Grace in his arms, removed from the others in a small pocket of grief. Jane swallowed. A surprisingly harried looking Cho emerged from her home, catching sight of him and striding hurriedly towards him.<p>

"Is she okay?" Jane asked before he could speak.

"She's alive." Came Cho's succinct answer. His stomach turned at the significant sidestep. "She's been refusing to go to a hospital."

"What happened?" He demanded. There was that almost inaudible sigh again.

"We're not sure, she hasn't been answering any questions. We think it happened as soon as she got home, so between 9 and 10 pm. Maybe she surprised him, or the other way around, it's not clear yet. There's signs of a struggle, and there's blood on the corner of her coffee table. Hers." Jane pictured the scene, the table around which he and Lisbon had shared several intimate moments. Always a tad awkward but never truly uncomfortable. Then he imagined her head being slammed into it's edge and felt a wave of nausea. He realized abruptly that Cho was still talking. "You can come in, maybe you can talk some sense into her." Jane nodded and the two strode purposefully to the door.

Once he crossed the threshold he had to stop and survey the damage. CSU techs swarmed the living room, the flash of a camera going off every few seconds. One of the pictures on her wall lay broken on the floor. A lamp flickered dimly on its side. The table captured his attention. The edge was brown with congealed blood, strands of long dark hair stuck in the mess. He looked up at a familiar voice.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm fine." He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Lisbon sounded crisp and alert, her usual forceful personality shining through. "No I'm not in shock, I just don't like people I don't know poking and prodding me!" Jane approached, hardly noticing that Cho hung back to talk to one of the forensic gremlins. She came into view, and he drank her in like a long lost photograph. She sat on the stairs, surrounded by a team of uniformed medical personnel. She held a fist over her heart, her posture hunched and defensive. Her hair was matted with blood. Bruises peeked out from her disheveled v-neck top. Someone had grabbed her by the neck. They'd probably shoved her head down onto the table themselves.

Lisbon glanced up, eyes round as she saw him. "Jane…" She whispered, almost as if in a daze. Seeming to snap out of it as he neared, she returned her ire to the persistent paramedics. "Hey, back off! I can take care of myself." Jane drew the attention of the frustrated medics.

"Give us a minute." Looking relieved, they moved away. Lisbon watched him like a hawk as he lowered himself onto the step beside her. "Hey." He said nonchalantly.

"Hey." She echoed.

"How are you doing?" She groaned lightly.

"Not you too. I'm fine. Seriously." He nodded.

"I believe you." She appeared comforted by this reassurance. They sat in silence for a moment. "But you know," Jane began bravely, "It would make a lot of people here feel better if you got yourself checked out."

"I don't need to and I don't want to." She replied, waving her hand adamantly.

"Of course." He agreed, then paused as he considered his next ploy. "You know, Grace isn't handling this very well." Her eyes softened and he knew he'd chosen correctly. "I passed her on my way in. Rigsby's taking care of her, you know how they are." She smiled faintly. He stared directly into her eyes as he pressed on, "I'm sure a clean bill of health would go a long way in easing her mind." He glanced away as he shrugged. "Mine too." From the corner of his eye he could make out the sinking of her shoulders in defeat.

"Alright," She muttered, "I'll go to the ER but that's it. No admittance, no tests."

"What if they find something?"

"They won't." Jane sighed.

"I guess that's the best we're going to get." He stood, holding out his hand to help her do the same. She accepted but wobbled on the way up. He extended a steadying arm around her waist. She blinked rapidly, clearly woozy. "Can I get some medics over here." He called to the cluster of EMTs. They hurried over and guided the pair to the gurney.

"Come on," Lisbon protested, "I can walk, I don't need a stretcher."

"It's procedure, Ma'am." One of them said.

"Bear with them," Jane murmured, "They're just mindless drones trying to punch out on time." That earned him a unladylike snort and an affronted scoff. He disentangled himself from Lisbon's hold as she hopped up on the gurney and allowed herself to be wheeled towards the door.

"Do you want Jane to ride with you?" He spun in surprise. He'd forgotten Cho was there.

"No, you guys should all get some sleep." Lisbon told them, using her easily identifiable 'boss voice'.

"You know we're not gonna do that." Cho replied, honest as always.

"Well you ought to!" She called as she was led further and further away. "You can start investigating in the morning, there's no need to obsess!" Conveniently for her, she was quickly pushed through and out onto the sidewalk, giving her the last word. Cho turned to Jane.

"She really has no idea, huh?" He asked.

"Absolutely none." Jane agreed.

* * *

><p><strong>Welcome one and all to my latest multichapter! It's the longest I've ever done, with an action packed plot that took me over a month to construct.<strong>

**I wish you were allowed more than two categories, because this story is more like Gen/Romance/Hurt+Comfort/Crime/Drama/Suspense. There is violence, but nothing more explicit than on the show. It's written from Jane's point of view and tries to emulate the style of an episode, though there is considerably more Jane/Lisbon romance than the producers would allow.**

**This story is already complete so there is no fear of an infinite WIP. There are 12 chapters, all named after a shade of red.**** Most chapters will be about twice the size of this one. Consider this the cold open.**** I'll be posting around midday, three times a week, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Though I'm sure some of you would prefer to read it all now, I like to draw it out :)**

**I don't have a Beta Reader, so please point out any mistakes. And definitely give me feedback as to whether I've stayed in character. Although I should warn you, Lisbon may seem to be increasingly irrational...**

**Enjoy my fellow Mentalist fanatics!**

**Laury the Latrator.**


	2. Amaranth

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 2_: Amaranth

Jane heaved a sigh, head tipped back on the arm of the couch. Rigsby, eyelids falling shut, rested his forehead gently on the documents he was supposed to be reading. Van Pelt rubbed at her bright red eyes, trying and failing to focus on her computer screen. A bleak silence blanketed the bullpen, one that not even the bright rays of morning could penetrate.

"Anything?" Jane asked for what had to be the dozenth time.

"No." Grace answered, her signature optimism conspicuously lacking. "There were no speeding tickets issued in the area and the traffic camera in the area is broken. I've also gone through the statements from the canvass. None of her neighbors saw or heard anything useful. Most were surprised to find they even lived near a cop."

"That's our Lisbon," Jane remarked softly, "Private to a T. What about you, Rigs?" His head snapped up, eyes wild for a moment.

"Huh? Oh! Right…" He scanned the paper he'd been drooling on. "Uh, the blood and the hair on her table is definitely the boss'."

"We already knew that."

"Yeah, but that's pretty much all forensics has. The place was seriously clean. Whoever it was obviously knows enough not to— Wait…" He narrowed his eyes at the document. "There's fibers in the glass of that smashed picture. Dark. They're going to run more tests." He looked at the other two. "She had on a red shirt, she wasn't wearing anything dark." Jane sat up.

"So… Our guy wore something dark when he attacked her. Not too unusual. Judging by the height of that picture frame, it was probably a hat or a mask or a hood. Lisbon struggles with her attacker and bangs his head into the picture. He pays her back in kind." His grim assessment was met with solemn silence. It was broken by the elevator dinging. Two sets of footsteps approached. Van Pelt shot out of her chair and moved to meet them.

"Boss!" She greeted her startled superior with a hug. Lisbon received it with good grace. She met Jane's pleased eyes.

"Told you I was fine." She said, lightly teasing. He grinned as Van Pelt withdrew.

"So you're okay? Nothing permanent? What did they say?" That redhead asked in rapid succession

"It was only a laceration of the scalp." Lisbon answered in that soothing way of hers. "No fracture, no concussion, and no cerebral contusion. They stitched me up and let me go."

"Then what took you so long?" Jane asked. "Seems like an awful lot of time to be released from the hospital for stitches." She opened her mouth but someone else beat her to it.

"She kept insisting that other people go ahead of her." Cho told them as he walked in from behind her, carrying a small suitcase. "She also refused to put on a hospital gown, badgered two orderlies, and swat the doctor's stethoscope away." Van Pelt chuckled at Lisbon's surly expression. "I've been making calls all night." Cho said, ignoring her disgruntlement. "The higher ups have agreed to let us work this case." Everyone except Lisbon grinned at this good news. "I'll be lead, as Lisbon isn't allowed to investigate her own assault. Technically she is on medical leave until this guy is caught."

"Then what are you doing here, boss?" Rigsby asked. "And what's with the bag?" He strode over to clap his hand on her shoulder, the most affection he was brave enough to give her.

"Well," Lisbon began simply, "My home has been declared a crime scene. I need somewhere to stay." Immediately the team extended their invitations but she held up a hand for quiet. "I appreciate it guys, but I really don't want to impose on any of you." Her gaze turned to Jane, who had remained mute. "I was actually hoping to steal your attic. You don't mind, do you?" He shook his head, though there was a nagging spike of intrigue in the back of his mind. Deciding to appease it, he stepped forward, taking her bag from Cho.

"Come on," He said charmingly, "I'll settle you in, you know, give you the full tour." She followed him to the stairwell, both ignoring the trio of curious stares aimed at their backs. They didn't speak until they reached Jane's little lair.

"I'm sorry to put you out like this." She said, nearing his makeshift cot. She sat, bouncing gently on the rusty springs. Jane set her bag on the desk, taking his seat on the chair there.

"No, you're right, it is the best solution. I have other places to nap."

"And brood." She added with a snort. He smiled briefly.

"True…" He trailed off to study her. She was carefully surveying the decor, or rather lack of it. Her eyes were not appreciative, though that was hardly unexpected, but rather calculating. His head tilted inquiringly. "What was your real reason for picking this place?" Her assessment ended abruptly as she whipped her head around.

"I told you, I didn't want to inconvenience anyone, and you said yourself it's not like you have nowhere else to go. Why does everything have to have an ulterior motive?" He shrugged.

"It doesn't, that's the thing. You're usually very straightforward. That's what makes these rare moments of secrecy so interesting." Lisbon looked away under the guise of exasperation.

"As long as it interests you." He ignored her sniping, merely waiting until she inevitably offered further insight. Finally she shifted uncomfortably. "It's nice. Secluded."

"Liar. You always refer to it as a dusty infested hole. You only venture up here to satisfy me. Now secluded, that is closer to the truth." She glared at him, a specific glare that meant he should dispense with the mystery man routine and get to the point. He inclined his head and obeyed. "You like it here because it's safe. It's both familiar and removed, and there's a legion of armed agents beneath our feet. Even so, you're still trying to determine it's strengths and weaknesses in a fight."

"Wow Jane," She began, sourness in her sarcasm, "That's really impressive. I've just been attacked and I'm looking for a secure place to stay. Tell me, how did you come up with something so revolutionary." Jane sighed, turning to gaze out the window.

"It wasn't my intention to start an argument." She scoffed.

"You know what they say about good intentions."

"It's alright to be scared." He insisted, meeting her eyes again. "It's not a weakness, especially after something like this. Hell," He held his arms out, wide and earnest, "I'm scared for you."

"Don't say that." She retorted immediately. He dropped his arms, slightly hurt.

"Why not? I shouldn't worry about you?" Her mouth tightened, a clear tell. "Well that's ridiculous." He told her as he stood. "Forget for a moment that your entire team is beside themselves trying to find out who did this to you, but you're the closest relationship I have, really have had since—"

"God, don't say that either!" She exclaimed, burying her face in her hands. Concern won out over frustration and Jane moved closer.

"Are you okay?" She sniffled but lifted her head.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. Do you mind if I—"

"Sure, yeah, of course." Jane agreed quickly, knowing enough to back off. "We can talk later." Lisbon smiled tightly, and though it was not reassuring in the least, he appreciated the effort.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Rigsby greeted him as he rejoined the two men in the bullpen, "How's the boss?"<p>

"About how you'd expect." Jane told them as he crossed the room and flopped down onto his couch. He stared blankly up at the Elvis stain, mind whirring in contemplation. "Something's off about her." He muttered.

"Well duh." Came Cho's characteristically blunt rebuttal. Jane shot him an irritated glance.

"I know, it's obvious. I'm merely having difficulty pinpointing whether it's due to feelings of inadequacy because she couldn't fight him off, her insatiable need to protect us from her own frailty, a direct result of her trauma and the stress, or some other factor."

"You're a piece of work, Jane." Rigsby remarked, pouring over some more files.

"Meh." He hummed, feigning disinterest as he shut his eyes. They popped open when something light hit his face. He shook his head, dislodging it. A piece of paper sat on his chest. He picked it up. It was a sheet of yellow notepad paper with a block of writing on it scrawled in a familiar hand.

"Before you start formulating any more theories," Cho called, not looking up, "You should read that." Jane watched his studious colleague for a moment longer but Cho was an expert at maintaining his indifference. He turned back to the paper.

_I left the CBI a little after 8:45_, he read, her words having the same professionalism and attention to detail she put into every aspect of her job. _I arrived at my house about 20 minutes later. I parked on the street which was unusually empty. I walked to my door. There was no sign of forced entry so I had no idea anything was wrong. I unlocked it and went inside. None of the lights were on so it was dark. I put my bag on the chair and started for the stairs. _Here there was a blot of ink, as if she'd paused for a while. He could picture her pen poised over the page, a little furrow in her brow as she considered how to proceed. _I heard a noise behind me and turned around. Before I could do anything I felt leather gloves around my throat. It was hard to make out anything about my attacker. I can't describe him with certainty. For all I know it could have been an especially muscular woman. We struggled. I kept trying to remove his hands but he was too strong. I tried to kick him but nothing landed. We knocked over the lamp at that point. I managed to run, forcing him backwards into the wall. His head hit one of the pictures. He gained the upper hand again. He pushed me towards the table. He tripped me and forced my head down. I blacked out. When I woke up it was almost 11:30 and he was gone. I called Cho and told him what happened. Less than 10 minutes later I heard the ambulance._

"Typical." Jane murmured.

"What is?" Rigsby asked.

"Oh, nothing," He replied softly, "Lisbon just has an uncanny way with self-recrimination." The gangly agent's face twisted uncomprehendingly. Jane rolled his head, slightly annoyed by his friend's slowness. "It's subtle, but how many people are ashamed that they're unable to identify a man they fought with for a max of five minutes." Their conversation was cut short as a heavy thud jarred them to attention. Van Pelt wiped her brow and on the table in front of her sat three large boxes.

"Okay, I requested the files of everyone she's collared here who's been paroled in the last 6 months." A look of uncertainty scrunched up her face. "Is that enough time? Maybe I should go back a year, just to be safe."

"Grace," Rigsby assured her calmly, "I'm sure this'll be fine."

"Plus we can always get more if nothing pans out." Cho added. Jane sat up.

"You said these are people she's caught here. What about in San Francisco?" She nodded.

"I've emailed them already. They're going through their records as we speak and they're going to fax us any hits." She smiled a little. "It's sweet, the man I talked to remembered her. He said a lot of people look up to her there and they're willing to do anything to help."

"Yeah, sweet." Cho repeated flatly. The team stood, forming a circle around the daunting tower of boxes. They considered the bleak mass of files.

"You know," Jane started, already stepping away, "I'm really not a cop or an agent or anything. Paperwork isn't my area, not like you three. I'm more of an abstract thinker kind of guy."

"Don't even think about it." Rigsby warned. "You're gonna do your fair share."

"Oh, unquestionably." He agreed, skillfully making his way backwards towards the hall. He made a show of looking at the wall clock. "But hey, look at that, it's almost lunchtime."

"It's not even 11!"

"Exactly why I should get going and beat the rush." He grinned at them, impressed with his own cunning. But as he turned to leave, Grace spoke up.

"Jane, it's for Lisbon." The words hit him like a physical blow to the stomach. He stopped. He closed his eyes. When he spun around to face them he'd plastered on his usual easy going expression.

"I'll get some for her too. She must be hungry." He sent them a cheery wave despite their disgruntled looks. "See ya, and be careful. Wouldn't want to get any paper cuts." He sauntered down the hall, their grumbling like the sweetest music to his ears. Once he got into the elevator however he dropped the act. He allowed his head to fall back against the wall. He sighed through his nose and clenched his fist.

Damn. This wasn't good. Keep it together. You're supposed to be better than this. The master of masks. The silver-tongued and cold blooded serpent. Heartless. This shouldn't affect you so much.

But it did.

Then for God's sake don't show it.

Resolved, Jane collected himself. When the elevator doors opened, only a trained eye would be able to see the cracks in his impeccable facade.

* * *

><p>45 minutes later, Jane reentered the building with his customary brilliant smile. He bore an array of goodies as an apology for his departure: four steaming cups of coffee on a foam tray, five cold sandwiches, and several decadently sugared pastries. He walked into the bullpen only to be met with three identical glares.<p>

"Hey." He greeted them, setting the food on the edge of Van Pelt's desk.

"You're a bastard." Rigsby replied. Jane pouted, cocking his head innocently, like a puppy who'd been wrongly accused.

"Come on guys, I brought snacks. Surely that gets me a few points."

"Depends." Cho said. "What'd you buy." Jane grinned again.

"Coffee, for one thing." He passed them out, each agent unable to suppress the tiny sigh they released as they inhaled the aroma. He pulled out the bag of sweets and displayed it to them. Van Pelt made a little moan of longing. Amused, he reached into the plastic bag around his wrist. "Turkey and Swiss for the Iceman." He announced, handing him the sandwich. Cho received it with approval. "Salmon spread for Grace." She accepted it and read the nutritional facts happily. "And BLT for—" The rest was unnecessary as Rigsby grabbed it and started unwrapping it eagerly. Seeing that everyone was pleased, and more importantly appeased, he gathered the remaining coffee and headed for the staircase.

"Waif," Rigsby called, mouth stuffed with food, "War ooh gowi?"

"Uh," He said over his shoulder, "Just dropping this off. I'll be back." Either they took his word, or he was too quick to hear their protests. Jane hopped up the stairs, careful not to spill. He opened the thick metal door carefully as well, as it was known to creak. Lucky he did.

Lisbon slept soundly on his bed, curled up on her side. Her back was to him so as to shade her face from the sun. Jane approached her slowly, keeping his tread light. Quietly he placed the bag and the cup on the desk. Daring to move closer, he took advantage of this rare opportunity to observe her. Her face was smooth, any tension she held during wakefulness was obviously lost in sleep. She breathed evenly, chest moving gently. Her eyes roved underneath her eyelids, deep in dreaming. It must be a good dream, he decided, to leave her so unguarded. Her hair splayed on his pillow, the light making it shine like amber. Her bangs fell in her face. He wondered if he could get away with tucking them behind her ear.

Feeling that familiar companion guilt begin to set in, Jane stepped away. He moved her coffee so it was in plain view whenever she woke up. He got out her sandwich, a simple ham and American, and the bear claw he'd saved for her, putting them with the coffee. He briefly contemplated writing her a note, but decided against it. She'd know who it was from.

* * *

><p><strong>Aw, adorable right?<strong>

**I forgot to mention last chapter, but this is set in some indeterminable future. I specifically don't mention who their supervisor is, as that's begun to change rather frequently. I really like the new guy though, isn't he adorably awkward? Anyway, this is a specific choice to allow time for Jane and Lisbon's relationship to have become a bit more overt. I do mention that it's been almost a decade since Jane's family was murdered, but exactly when depends on your interpretation of the show.**

**Anyways, I've loved your feedback so far. A lot of people seem intrigued by the plot so far, and while this chapter isn't very plot heavy, it does give you a better idea of the tone of my story. Please, keep it up and tell me what you think! Don't be afraid to copy and paste your favorite lines.**

**Laury the Latrator.**


	3. Burgundy

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 3_: Burgundy

"I've got a child molester with a meth habit."

"Hey, I've got a meth dealer with a child!"

"Not funny Jane."

"Come on, I'm drowning over here. Give me a break." The four sat around the table, systematically reading through the immense number of files. The task had only gotten harder when SFPD sent over their records, a whopping two extra boxes. For the last two hours they'd been sorting them into groups based on the likelihood of their guilt.

"Oh wait," Rigsby read further, "He overdosed last month. Guess he's innocent." He set it in the appropriate pile and reached for another. Cho shook his head at his file.

"Here's a traffic cop that Lisbon cited as negligent. What's this even doing in here?"

"Ugh," Grace groaned, "This guy beat his wife into a coma. He plead guilty to aggravated assault and only got three years."

"That has promise." Jane pointed out.

"Ooh, and it says here he tried to throw a punch at Lisbon when she came to arrest him." She threw it unceremoniously on the 'suspicious' stack. "There's a keeper."

"How many does that make now?"

"14 probables, 21 possibles, 9 unlikely, and 16 who are either dead or moved out of state." Cho counted.

"And how many left to do?

"Almost 30."

"I thought it was bad when it was Jane's enemies we were searching through." Rigsby grumbled. "You know, I'm still not sure if we should exclude the ones who moved."

"We've been over this Rigs," Jane explained, "It shows a willingness to put the past behind them and progress in life. They wouldn't just turn around and attack their arresting officer." He sighed, putting down his file and turning to the wall clock. "We've only got a few more hours of daylight. I say we take the 14 ones we have and run them down. We can sort more tomorrow." The three agents shared a glance and shrugged.

"Alright," Cho agreed, "We split them. Rigsby and I will take one half and you and Van Pelt take the others. We get their alibis and come back here." They all nodded.

* * *

><p>Jane pulled his trusty Citroën over, parking it in front of a dilapidated one-story. He glanced over at Grace, who was jotting something in her notepad as she finished up a call.<p>

"Got it," She addressed whomever was on the other line, "Thank you for your time. Have a good—" She cut herself off with a frustrated huff and hung up. Jane raised a brow. "The woman who poisoned her children is clean." She told him. "Believe it or not she was actually entertaining sick kids at the hospital."

"That's a relief." He remarked sarcastically. "What a load off my mind." Grace smiled weakly at his attempt at humor. She got out of the car, Jane following suit, and strode to the door.

"Who's this?" She asked as she knocked on the door, wiping the peeling paint flecks on her jeans with a grimace.

"Ah, this would be our last stop of the day, a Mr. Ricardo Guzman, or as he prefers to go by…" The door opened, revealing a brunette with atrocious amounts of lipstick squeezed into a far too short snakeskin skirt. "…Vermouth?" He inquired politely. She grinned beguilingly, twirling a finger in her long sleek wig.

"I go down smooth." She said in a suggestive voice (really, it was more obvious than a mere suggestion). "Whatchu here for?" Van Pelt displayed her badge and Vermouth dropped the act. "Oh, I get it. Catching up with the parolees, huh? Come on in." She twirled elegantly and lead them down the narrow hallway and into a cluttered living room. "As you can see, there is no whorehouse in here, just a chica trying to get by. I've been working as a waitress in this gay bar downtown, here's the brochure." She handed Jane a leaflet displaying beaming men with glistening pectorals. "Nothing shady, ask anyone." He put it in his pocket with a courteous nod.

"We're actually here on a more specific matter." Van Pelt cut in. Vermouth sat in a plush chair, openly curious.

"The agent who arrested you." Jane said seriously, watching her closely. "She's been attacked." Her eyes widened under the heavy eyeshadow.

"Lisbon?" She asked with what appeared to be genuine concern. "Someone hurt her? Is she okay?"

"Yes." Grace answered. "She's fine." Tension drained from Vermouth's countenance immediately. "Our records indicate that you made several threatening calls to Lisbon's work phone, is that correct." She bowed her head.

"Si, yes, I did." She said in shame.

"But things are different now." Jane stated for her. "Something changed." Vermouth gestured towards the couch.

"You better sit, it's a long story." They obliged, watching her with interest. "I worked as a hooker." She began brazenly. "Well, more of a madame, I guess. Drag queens primarily, you know, as a connection to men with big appetites. My operation was busted by Agent Lisbon when one of my girls killed a client in self defense. She pushed for the highest sentence. I was…" Her face screwed up as she remembered it, "…furious. I let it out with angry calls, as many as I could afford, mostly to my loca familia but also to Lisbon." She blinked rapidly. "I wasn't allowed to dress up in prison or wear my make up or nothing. But everyone knew who I was, what I did. This guard, he was awful. He'd insult me, take away privileges for no reason, whatever he could do to make my life suck. One day he actually grabbed me and I reacted. I called Lisbon from the infirmary, yelling about how she'd locked me up with bigots and assholes and psychos and how this guy was going to kill me and it'd be all her fault. I didn't expect nothing, but she showed up the next day. She saw the bruises he gave me and demanded his badge number." Jane couldn't help smiling. That was his Lisbon. "She got all these prisoners he'd harassed, mostly the gay ones, to speak up. She made a real case against him and got him fired for abuse of power." Vermouth wiped at her eyes, the mascara tainting her tears. "I got nothing but love for Lisbon. She didn't have to do that, but she did anyway. No one, especially not a cop, has ever done that for me. I hope you find that scumbag and give him a kick in the cojones from me."

* * *

><p>"Wasn't that was uplifting?" Jane said as they were leaving. He looked over his shoulder to see Vermouth giving them a friendly wave goodbye. He returned it with a wide grin.<p>

"Yeah, at least we can cross this one off the list." Grace replied listlessly, getting in his car. Jane circled around and sat down as well, but did not start the engine.

"You can't still be discouraged." He told her, noting her persisting morose expression. "Not after that heartwarming story."

"That's just it, Jane." She sighed, covering her eyes with her hand. "Lisbon… she's such a good person. On so many levels. A-and someone… someone's trying to hurt her. Why? How could anyone…?" Her arm fell and her gaze lowered to her lap. Jane reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder, capturing her attention.

"I know." He said softly, utilizing a mildly hypnotic inflection. "This is very difficult for you. You're a naturally empathetic person. You admire her. You care about her deeply."

"Not like you." She blurted out. Her eyes widened. Jane, shocked, leaned a little away. "I'm sorry." She apologized quickly. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's…" He cleared his throat. "It's fine." There was a period of awkward silence. "Er, but, uh…" He stammered, trying to return to his original point. "It's going to be okay. We're going to catch whoever did this. Lisbon is strong, she'll be alright."

"Of course, you're right." Grace agreed, blinking away the moisture from her eyes. Jane buckled up and put the car into gear. "So," She continued as they pulled out, "I better run down Ver—I mean, Guzman's alibi. I know it's a waste of time but it doesn't hurt. We should be back to HQ by 7."

"Yeah." Jane muttered absentmindedly. "Hey, do you mind if I make a stop first?"

* * *

><p>"You talked to Vermouth?" Lisbon repeated incredulously, holding back surprised laughter. "I could have told you he wasn't involved."<p>

"Yes, well," Jane grumbled, spearing a forkful of curry, "Due diligence and all that."

"How is he by the way?" She asked, spooning some of her dinner into her mouth.

"She's doing quite well. Recommended an excellent bar, if I was so inclined."

"No," She snickered around her thai food, "She did not."

"Oh I assure you she did." He said, pulling out the leaflet Vermouth had given him. Lisbon swallowed then giggled at the sight.

"That's hysterical!" She grabbed it and examined it more closely. He was amused to see her pupils dilate at the scantily clad men. After a couple minutes, however, he grew less amused, and Jane cleared his throat pointedly. She glanced up guiltily. "Sorry, they're just very… well groomed."

"Uh huh." He hummed skeptically. Her gaze turned, as he'd found it often did, to the window. It still held that strangely suspicious quality to it. Jane was worried that she was routinely checking for snipers. As he'd done throughout their meal, he tried to distract her. "So what exactly did you do today?" She refocused on him.

"Well you know I slept for a while. When I woke up I ate lunch." She sent him a grateful glance. "Then I took myself to the shooting range. That was nice. Actually I spent a few hours there. They let me rent a submachine gun." Jane looked on fondly as she smiled at the memory. Her unavoidable self-consciousness kicked in and she covered the moment by taking a big bite. "I came back, grabbed my laptop and headed up here. Sent some emails. That's about it."

"Who would have guessed that your coping mechanism involves excessive firepower." He said, warmth in his eyes as he watched her. Lisbon bowed her head, letting her hair hide her face.

"I don't see you coming up with anything better." She murmured. That seemed a sensitive statement. His head tilted and he dropped his smile.

"What does that mean?" She didn't respond for a while and returned her attention out the window. He waited, outwardly patient while inwardly pensive.

"If something were to happen to me," She began slowly, "Would you be okay?"

"Nothing's going to happen to you." He replied immediately. Her head shook at the darkening sky.

"It's a hypothetical question."

"Is it?" He asked. She met his eyes, her expression intended to be neutral. It spoke volumes to him.

"Yes." She lied. Fine. If Lisbon wanted to lie, he would give her the honest truth.

"Of course not." He said easily. Her mouth fell open a little in dismay.

"What, no, don't say that!" She sputtered. "What do you mean?" He took his time answering, eating some more of his curry while affecting a contemplative air. He liked the furrow in her brow that told of her increasing concern. Finally he straightened.

"Why should I be okay if something happened to you?" He explained. "You're my friend, that much is undeniable. It's a short list too, all the more reason it would have a significant impact on me. You'll forgive my sentiment, but I think we both know that I have trouble losing people." His implication was clear to her. She drew a shaky breath in. The fragility of it captivated him. She pushed away her plate.

"I'm a cop, Jane." She said softly and sadly. "I put my life at risk on a daily basis. You can't have that attitude. I could die any—"

"You're not going to die." He countered doggedly. "I'm not going to let you. Not this time." Her face fell into a mixture of despair and sympathy.

"Please Patrick…" He blinked at the use of his given name, so rare from her tongue. Almost as rare as hearing Lisbon beg.

"Why is this so important to you?" Jane asked, leaning forward so their shared gaze became all the more intense. "So I'd be…" He resisted against the urge to skirt around the emotion. "…devastated," He continued doggedly, "If you were… if something happened to you. So would the rest of the team. So would so many people. Do you really not see that?" She was staring out the damn window again. "Teresa." He said firmly, and her head whipped around. "Do you get that?" He repeated unwaveringly. Despite a somewhat vacant expression, she nodded. "Alright." He sighed, satisfied, and leaned back again. He resumed eating, still keeping an eye on her. Lisbon sat looking at her hands where they lay in her lap. It was a heavy silence they were absorbed in. She mumbled something indistinguishable. "What?" Jane asked.

"I said," She whispered a little louder, "I feel the same way." Not quite understanding, he minutely shook his head. She caught the movement and looked up. Her eyes, while not moist, were mournful. "About you." Lisbon clarified. "If you died, I'd be devastated too." The corners of his mouth pulled upwards gently.

"Then we're in agreement." He said, only marginally teasing. "We both won't die." Her gaze dropped away, to his disappointment.

"We don't always have control over that, Jane." She told him seriously.

"Then we'll do our best." He replied, and raised his cup of cheap wine. She did the same, smiling slightly in return, but it was enough to make him grin.

* * *

><p><strong>My mom loves thai food.<strong>

**I love Vermouth. She was so fun to write. I hope no one's offended. She isn't meant to be a caricature. She's loosely based on a real drag queen in a book I read about the Stonewall riots. Though she used to be a hooker, she's really just an honest person trying to get out of a bad situation and make something of herself. I created her to set Lisbon apart from other cops, in that her sense of justice is applied to everyone, despite whatever her personal feelings are.**

**I also love Grace. She's a sweet person thrust into a rough world. Lisbon is my favorite character, but I identify with Grace the most. But then all of the team hold a special place in my heart.**

**On an unrelated note, in that episode last night, Jane was an asshole. I was cursing him out so much. But I love him. It's complicated. Literally, I was screaming, "You psychotic son of a bitch, you're such an asshole, I love you!" I do. I can't help it. I love him. And so does Lisbon ;)**

**On an even more removed note, the Mentalist returns on my Birthday. It'll be the best present ever.**

**I have an addiction: reviews. Please be my enabler.**

**Laury the Latrator.**

**PS: Sorry for the super long and rambling author's note.**


	4. Flame

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 4_: Flame

Jane strolled calmly into the observation room and joined Cho in watching a burly neanderthal of a man fidgeting uncomfortably in the next room. Cho stood rigidly at attention, clearly sizing up the suspect before going in to interrogate him. The man barely spared him a glance.

"Hey." He greeted tersely.

"Good morning." Jane replied, rocking gently on his heels as he studied the apelike figure through the oneway mirror. He grimaced when the man picked his nose and wiped it on his wife beater. "Who's the rocket scientist?"

"Rodney Dolan. Convicted of strangling his mistress, paroled two months ago. He made both violent threats and lecherous remarks to Lisbon when she apprehended him and he has no alibi." Jane whistled.

"Wow. You guys hit the nail on the head." Cho appeared to take no note of his comment.

"Have you spoken with Lisbon today?" His coworker asked.

"Not today no, but we shared dinner." That earned him a sidelong look.

"How is she do you think?" Jane shrugged.

"It's hard to tell with her. She's used to burying things inside. While her thick walls are easily penetrable by my keen skills, it does tend to distort the picture."

"She's jumpy." Cho assessed. "Plus she was avoiding us yesterday. That's never good."

"It's not that she was avoiding you," Jane tried to assure him, "She's just isolating herself. She needs time to pull herself together."

"Somehow I don't think it'll be so easy this time." Cho said, an oddly grim note tinting his usual drone. He crossed his arms as Rodney Dolan started to remove his shoes and prop his dirty socked feet on their interview table. Cho shook his head and moved to the door. "At least she's got you to help her through." He said over his shoulder, disappearing through the door before Jane could so much as blink. He dismissed the remark and turned to watch the proceedings.

"Feet. Off." Cho commanded curtly. With a resentful glare, Dolan complied. Cho sat, spreading Dolan's file out in front of him. He hummed in interest as he read. Dolan leaned closer as if to read as well, but Cho spoke before he could. "You tried to use your seven year old kid as a human shield when my boss came to arrest you. That's pretty low, and believe me I've seen some real scum in this job." Dolan's face twisted in an ugly sneer.

"I knew they weren't gonna hurt her." He defended.

"Lisbon talked you down," Cho continued, "Saved your daughter's life." Dolan leaned forward menacingly.

"That bitch put me away for 9 years, I don't owe her nothing."

"'Anything'." Cho corrected.

"Huh?"

"You really aren't doing yourself any favors insulting my boss." The agent went on brusquely. "Now, you copped to second degree murder which means you're smart enough to realize that no jury will ever see you in a sympathetic light. Look at you. You're a roofing tile layer who likes to beat on women and kids." Dolan's eyes narrowed. "Agent Lisbon however is exemplary in every respect, with more honors and commendations than you have teeth. Who do you think a jury's gonna side with?"

"I didn't touch the uptight—"

"There you go again with the insults, you're really not getting this, are you?" Dolan crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair.

"Yeah, so I'd like to give the guy who did this a good cigar, but it wasn't me. You got nothing on me. I ain't taking the rap for this."

"'Have' and 'I'm not'."

"Shut up." Cho stood, looking down his nose imperiously at the dolt for a moment.

"How is your daughter anyway?" Dolan sniffed indifferently.

"Hell if I know." Cho shook his head and returned to the observation room.

"Well?" He asked Jane who was leaning against the mirror, still observing the oaf.

"He's got the rage and the strength to take Lisbon down." He announced. "He's used to hurting women and strangulation is his preferred method. It has merit. There are some problems though. He seems a bit too slow to leave a crime scene so clean. It also doesn't make sense that he would leave her alive."

"He could have freaked out when she hit her head." Cho countered.

"Possible, but unlikely. He's acclimated to violence, a little blood wouldn't put him off."

"Whatever. I like him for this." The acting senior agent said, summarily dismissing his concerns.

"Of course you do, he's the best option we have. It doesn't mean it's him." Cho scrutinized him for a minute, then pushed past him towards the hall.

"Come on, I want to see if Lisbon can make an ID." Jane followed quickly, both men heading for the stairs. They halted in place as the sounds of feminine laughter drifted to their ears. They shared a glance and changed course. Sure enough, Lisbon and Van Pelt were sitting in the kitchenette, both beaming widely. The women looked up at their approach.

"Oh, hey guys." Grace greeted them, tone saturated with her amusement. Jane stepped closer, with his hands in his trouser pockets and a devilish grin on his face.

"What's got you two so giggly?" They smiled slyly at each other before turning again.

"Hot mailroom guy." They replied as one. Jane rolled his eyes.

"Ah yes, curse California's overabundance of amateur actors. I must say I'm surprised at you, Lisbon. Isn't gawking at underlings unbecoming of a state agent?"

"So I like the tall, dark, and handsome type." She demurely defended herself. "Sue me."

"No, that's the sexual harassment lawyer's job." He replied teasingly. She huffed a scoff and took a sip of her coffee, but he was glad to see the impish smile she was vainly trying to hide. Van Pelt pursed her lips, catching his interest with her suspiciously coy, knowing, almost superior expression. He looked inquisitively back at her as Cho came forward.

"Boss, we've got a suspect in interrogation." He told her. Immediately her carefree appearance evaporated. "A Rodney Dolan, paroled two months ago." She nodded at this information.

"Yes, I remember him, one of my first collars at the CBI. A real laggard." A worried expression crossed her face. "You think he had something to do with my attack?"

"He doesn't have an alibi," Cho explained, "And he practically busted out the champagne when Rigsby and I told him about it. Do you think it could be him?" Her head shook, and Jane was surprised by something akin to fear in her eyes.

"I told you I didn't get a good look at him. I have no idea whether Dolan is involved."

"Maybe you should see him anyway, it might jog your memory." Cho suggested. Lisbon stood, her short stature not diminishing the aura of power she gave off. The acting team leader raised his chin, a subtle yet sure sign that he was intimidated.

"No." She replied simply. "I won't do it."

"Why not? It's worth a shot." He said, brow furrowed in confusion.

"It wouldn't be any use, I don't know anything."

"You're the one who taught me that witnesses usually know more than they think."

"Then trust me when I say I don't." She countered, brushing past him and leaving the three staring after her in bewilderment.

* * *

><p>Jane lay on his couch, eyes closed in what would appear to be peaceful slumber to any passersby. In reality, his mind was restless, denying him his usual dozing. Most of the day had passed in a similar fashion, with Jane finding himself cast off to the side with nothing to do. Cho had directed Rigsby and Van Pelt to search Dolan's house, while he had been stuck making calls to everyone related to all the other names on their massive list of suspects. Understandably their temporary leader had been cranky. While Cho was an entirely competent agent who would excel with his own team, the strain of responsibility for catching his friend's assailant was a considerable detriment. He had been hesitant to send Jane out to talk to suspects. Again, it was a reasonable reluctance. Lisbon was similarly unwilling to let him out on his own during a really big case. And no one could deny that this case was big.<p>

He shifted, striving for a more comfortable position to ease his mind. He wanted to do _something_. He hated this feeling of metaphorical impotence. His dear friend had been hurt by someone who, he believed, was still out there. And what was he doing? Lounging here while the real agents scuttled around filing paperwork.

He sighed softly at his lot. His predicament was not helped by the significant yet muddled feelings that had been growing for his partner. His beautiful and tenacious partner who would scoff if she heard his description.

No, he shouldn't dwell on this tumultuous issue at work. Not now.

But as he tried to divert his thoughts, Jane pictured Lisbon at the shooting range, hair whipping behind her despite her protective gear, face scrunched cutely in determination, firing a massive automatic machine gun. His eyes popped open. Well that was counterproductive.

"Hey Jane?" Rigsby waved in greeting as he lumbered over to the couch. "Have you seen Lisbon?" Jane tried to shake away the image like the vestiges of a dream.

"Not recently." He answered, swinging his legs over and sitting up. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason." The agent replied with badly feigned nonchalance. "Do you know where she might be? I've tried the attic already and her office." Jane stared at him, curiosity blossoming as his friend fidgeted.

"Actually yes, I have a very good, very vivid idea, but I won't tell you." Rigsby's eyebrows knit together crossly.

"Why not?"

"Because you have a potentially embarrassing reason that I need to hear."

"I told you, it's nothing!" He exclaimed, flapping his arms in exaggerated exasperation. Jane arched a brow.

"Come on Wayne, think who you're dealing with." Rigsby slumped, clearly recognizing his defeat.

"You'll say it's stupid."

"Quite possibly."

"You'll laugh at me."

"Most likely." He agreed. "Now give it up." Rigsby sighed, and trudged to his desk. Jane watched as he quickly pulled something out of his desk and held it close to his chest. He shuffled back to Jane's couch. "Let me see." He prompted when the agent remained reluctant. He gave in and extended the package for Jane's inspection. Wrapped in a plastic bag was a clear tin, and inside sat over a dozen glistening chocolate chip cookies. "Wow… you got these for her?"

"Baked, actually." He muttered. Jane couldn't hold in a chuckle. At Rigsby's mild glare he adopted a contrite expression.

"That's nice, that's very… sweet."

* * *

><p>"So do you have an apron?"<p>

"Drop it already."

"Sorry, this is just so interesting. A whole new facet of your personality to explore." Rigsby shook his head in aggravation as the two men entered the shooting range leased by the CBI. The reverberations of muffled shots reached them despite the long beige hallway.

"You didn't have to come, you know." The agent reiterated.

"And miss the touching moment when you present your gift to our fearless leader? Never."

"You're an idiot."

"No more so than you, my friend." They reached the thick double doors and pushed through into the main lobby. The noise was louder here, so they grabbed the acoustic earmuffs hanging on the wall. A man, obviously the manager of the facility, was slumped over his desk. "Huh." Jane hummed at the sight. Rigsby moved to the desk, putting two fingers to his neck.

"He's just asleep." He told him with palpable relief. He started to shake the man. "Buddy, wake up, you might get fired." Jane started towards another door, where the gunshots were emanating from.

"Alright, you get this guy going, I'll find Lisbon." He left the taller man to his task, stepping carefully past the row of shooters. There weren't many people there, it being the near the end of the work day. Everyone there seemed absorbed in their booth, focusing intently on the targets. Jane glanced in each one, taking note of who was good and whether they were police affiliated or not. He was just passing an empty stall when something grabbed his pant leg. Startled, he looked down.

Lisbon lay belly down on the floor, arm outstretched to his ankle, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. Her other hand was stained red and clutching her cross, knuckles white as a porcelain doll. Her eyes were round and frightened. She wheezed silently, drawing shallow breaths. Blood pooled beneath her head, sickeningly slick and familiar.

Jane fell to the floor, his knees hitting the concrete hard. She struggled to sit up against the wall of the booth, panting from the exertion. A long slit ran across her throat, seeping blood. Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, and she bit it hard to keep from screaming in pain. He quickly unbuttoned his vest and wrapped the material around his hand. Shaking, Jane held it to her cut, applying pressure despite how his heart twisted at her increased gasps.

"Rigsby!" He yelled, voice breaking from the urgency of his tone. Faintly he could hear the hurried footsteps over the dwindling sounds of gunfire as the other patrons realized something was wrong. Jane ignored the increased buzzing around them as he stared into Lisbon's eyes. She stared back, his terror reflected in her gaze. Their tenuous connection held as Rigsby cursed into his cell phone and curious bystanders looked on. All of the irrelevant noise and people faded away. They remained isolated in a bubble of primal emotion. They were alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh no! Not again! Oh golly, what will happen next?<strong>

**I know of course. I wrote it :)**

**Also, I adore Rigsby. He's got a big heart under all that bumbling machismo. I love the idea that he secretly bakes. It's such a cute mental image. And apparently Jane agrees.**

**And on a personal note, I was just accepted to my first choice of college! I'll be moving in mid January (that's just 3 weeks!) and start taking classes on filmmaking and television writing and the like. Who knows, maybe someday you'll be watching my hit TV show and someone out there will be writing their own fanfiction about it. Trippy, right?**

**Tune in on Wednesday for the aftermath of the second attack and a gripping confrontation between our two leads!**

**Love, Laury.**


	5. Folly

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 5_: Folly

"Stop it, leave me alone."

"Ma'am, we have to take you to a hospital."

"I'm fine, I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"You could have neural damage, vascular damage, trachea—"

"I'm a cop, you think I don't know about knife—" Lisbon broke off coughing. The paramedic moved to help her but she still managed to wave her away. Jane left the bickering couple to stand with the rest of the team. Rigsby leaned against the wall, the knees of his pants stained with his boss' blood. Van Pelt was putting her hair up in a loose ponytail, her movements ragged and angry. A thin line ran down Cho's forehead, speaking volumes of his stress. Jane suddenly felt very bare without his customary vest. If only it hadn't been so warm, he could have worn his jacket. Then he realized, with bubbling hysteria, what a silly concern that was.

"What's the word?" Jane asked, trying to maintain a semblance of his usual vigor. The agents' looked at him with varying degrees of fatigue.

"No one heard or saw anything." Van Pelt reported. "They were too isolated in the shooting stalls. And with the ear protection…"

"Alright, dead end." Jane summarized, immediately moving on to Rigsby.

"The manager was drugged, probably from the coffee on his desk. He woke up like ten minutes ago, said he missed almost an hour."

"So the killer only arrived a few minutes before we did." He surmised. "He might have even been in here when we walked in."

"There are security tapes in the lobby and the range." Cho added. "We could be able to see him."

"Great!" Jane exclaimed a little too loudly. His coworkers shot him mixed looks, partly reproaching and partly sympathetic. He shook his head, dropping the forced exuberance and displaying his true maudlin attitude. "Anything else?" He asked wearily. There was a poignant absence of speech. Jane sighed.

"Who brings a knife to a shooting range?" Rigsby posed helplessly to the group.

"Someone who's more interested in shock value than fatality." Jane responded. There was another pessimistic lull in conversation.

"Now all we need is for Lisbon to agree to be examined." Cho said.

"Not happening." Her soft voice cut in, and the four turned to see their leader approach. Lisbon dabbed Jane's vest to her throat, where her cut had begun to crust over. "See," She whispered with forced optimism, "It's getting better already."

"Boss," Van Pelt began timidly, "I can understand not wanting to go to the hospital, but this is really serious. There's all sorts of things that can go wrong with a neck wound."

"I know, but they aren't happening here. None of the major veins or arteries were hit or I'd still be hemorrhaging. No nerves were severed because I've got no strange facial symptoms. And there's no air bubbling out of my throat so we can rule out damage to the esophagus or trachea." She shrugged but winced as the gesture seemed to pull on her injury.

"Then why do you sound so hoarse?" Cho asked.

"Yeah, and why couldn't you breathe right before?" Rigsby added.

"It hurt to move." She explained quietly. "Talking too loud or breathing too deep was painful. Still is, a little." She glanced at Jane quickly, but her gaze skittered away almost instantly. "I'm fine. I know enough about wounds to treat it myself. I want to go."

"Lisbon, be reasonable," Jane said, drawing her (apparently reluctant) attention, "What harm could possibly come from letting yourself be checked out?" She looked down, avoiding his eyes. He felt a spike of unease.

"I don't want to go to the hospital." She told them flatly. "Nothing you can say will change that." They stood in uncomfortable silence as the team wondered how to proceed.

"Can you at least tell us what happened?" Cho requested, strangely deferential. Lisbon shook her head, keeping her line of sight down and to the left.

"No. It happened so fast, I didn't see or hear anything." Jane's eyes widened.

"But…" She met his disbelieving gaze, and, judging by the fear in her expression, she knew he had caught the lie. Her head shook again, a minute gesture of pleading. She didn't want to do this in front of the team.

"I need to get back to the office." She announced, mainly addressing Jane. "I have to clean myself up. Jane, drive me?" He nodded, head still in a fog from his revelation. They walked towards the door.

"Oh, hey, wait," Rigsby exclaimed, jogging over to meet them, "I almost forgot." He held out the black plastic bag, revealing the tin of cookies that had lead them there in the first place. Lisbon extended her free hand, taking the offering almost reverently.

"Thank you." She murmured. Rigsby nodded bashfully and moved back to the others. Jane and Lisbon pushed through the doors.

Jane's mind was a flurry of thought as they walked to his car, for once paying little attention to his surroundings. By the time they reached his Citroën however he had come to enough conclusions to focus on driving. He unlocked it, watching as she gracefully got in. He turned the engine on and pulled out. They were silent for a while, air brimming with things unsaid. Lisbon kept her attention out the window, watching the streets roll by, her profile illuminated by the orange glow of the streetlights.

"This isn't the way to the CBI." She commented eventually.

"Nope." He agreed evenly. She didn't ask where he was taking her. She just sat back in quiet acceptance.

When they stopped at her street, he could see her tense. He got out of the car and came around to her side, opening the door like a gentleman. Lisbon looked up at him through her lashes. He held out his hand. She took it and stood. They headed towards her house, the structure seeming to tower menacingly in the dark. Jane ducked under the X of police tape covering the entrance, moving further in to her living room. Behind him he could hear Lisbon do the same. There were no drastic changes, but the broken lamp and smashed picture had been taken away to the evidence lockup and forensic markers littered the ground. However, there was still some dried blood left on the coffee table.

"Mind if I get my first aid kit before we start?" Lisbon asked. He hummed an affirmative and turned to see her hands fiddling with his vest. "Sorry about getting this all dirty." She muttered lowly.

"Yes," Jane replied sardonically, "Because I'm really going to hold your gushing neck against you." She didn't seem to hear his remark.

"You know, I might be able to salvage it if I soak it in my sink." She told him, keeping her gaze on the stain. Jane sighed, turning his eyes heavenward, an atheist begging the universe for guidance.

"Do whatever you want with it." He said, waving her away dismissively. Lisbon plodded past him, head down, and hurried up the stairs. Jane took the opportunity to survey her home once more. Nothing new jumped out at him. Whoever had broken in had indeed been meticulous. Now he went over Lisbon's initial statement, overlaying the imagery with the room. Walked to the stairs, someone was behind her, she turned. He followed the movements being played out in his mind. So far it was plausible. The guy jumped her, hands around her neck, they stumbled, knocked over a lamp, his head hit the wall, he slammed her into the table. Again, all plausible. Either she was an exceptional liar, something he knew to be false, or it was true. Alright… a lie of omission then.

"What are you doing?" He spun around as Lisbon reentered the room, coming down the stairs with a curious expression. A thick line of gauze ran along the slit at her throat. Jane gathered himself together, preparing for the fight.

"What did you leave out of your statement?" She scowled at the direct assault.

"Nothing." She stated staunchly.

"No," He began warningly, "You held something back about tonight's assault and you're holding something back about the first." His conclusions were confirmed by her body language, yet still she denied it.

"I didn't."

"You're lying to me!" He exclaimed incredulously. "You are lying to my face. I cannot believe this."

"Can't take what you dish out?" She mocked, folding her arms defensively. He tried to ignore her barb.

"Why would you lie about this? What could possibly possess you to lie when it could cost you your life?"

"What, are your magical powers failing you, oh mighty mentalist?"

"You're not petty enough for it to be something embarrassing." Jane continued. "It has to be something important, something personal. You're too good a cop for it to be anything else."

"Stop reading me!" She shouted. "You don't know anything about me!"

"Enough!" He yelled, startling them both into silence. Lisbon glared resentfully at him. He took a deep breath and spoke in a lower voice. "I understand the insults, you're upset and nervous and… you're not emotionally stable right now. That's fine. But I am your friend and I will not let you continue lying to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Don't lie to me about not lying." Lisbon scoffed, shifting her weight uneasily. "Now, I know that you have information about these attacks, information that you are withholding from the team. Are you going to admit it or not?" They stared at each other, gaze sparking with intensity, and Jane could see her resolve crumbling. He held his breath as the walls fell, but then, unexpectedly, a new veil covered her eyes.

"I can't." She whispered. Jane huffed a laugh, feeling lightheaded.

"So there is something you're keeping from me, but you won't tell me what it is, is that it?" The lines around her eyes tightened, giving him all the answer he needed. "Why not? What's stopping you?" She turned away, her back to him. "Is it somehow damaging to your career?" He guessed desperately. "You have to know I'd cover up anything for you." Her head shook quickly. "Do you feel you deserve this? I assure you, no matter what, you don't." She sniffled and wiped her nose. Jane wondered if she was crying. "Is someone in danger?" He pressed on. "Are they threatening someone you love?"

"No." She replied in a quavering voice. "It's nothing important. Let it go."

"I can't let it go." He told her, anger rising. "Your life is at stake here. Does that not matter to you at all?" She whirled around, and he was only slightly relieved to see that she was not crying. In fact, she looked positively irate.

"I'm done playing your little game." She declared, waving her arm emphatically. "Drop it. I'm not telling you anything."

"You're the one playing games here, Lisbon! How can you put yourself— No— How can you put _us_ through this! If you know something about who's hurting you, if you can put a stop to this, it is downright irresponsible of you not to!"

"Oh shove it you arrogant bastard!" She yelled, taking an aggressive step forward. "Can't you butt out of my life for once—"

"What life!" Jane retorted. "If you go the way you're going you'll be dead by the end of the week!"

"I am handling it!"

"You're handling it?" He repeated with a sarcastic sneer. "Well you're doing a damn good job of it. The case is practically solved!" Lisbon made a strangled sound of frustration, almost like a spitting alley cat.

"I might slug you in your narcissistic face!"

"Go ahead, you hit like a girl." He taunted, fury and fear propelling him past good sense.

"Why can't you just trust me to deal with—"

"We're talking about trust now? That's rich, coming from—"

"Shut up! I can look after my—"

"I trust you to look after everyone's life but your own, that's where I come in."

"Ha! You can't even manage yours!"

"I'm trying to help you! Don't you see that?"

"You're trying to control me, that's all you ever do!"

"I care about you!"

"If you cared you'd let me—"

"What, kill yourself?"

"You son of a—"

This time Lisbon was cut off not by Jane's words, but his actions. It was the kind of kiss that distorted one's memory, or perhaps reality itself. Thinking back, Jane couldn't be sure what made him do it. It was probably partly a combination of anger, pain, and pent up affection. Yet it was overwhelmingly the result of one simple fact: he did not want Lisbon to die.

Jane cradled her face in his hands, stroking her cheek softly while simultaneously ensuring she did not pull away. Her lips were supple and raw. Her hair, silky and smooth, brushed against the tips of his fingers. The smell of her consumed his senses, somehow so essentially her: a hint of cinnamon, breezy laundry detergent, flowery deodorant, gunpowder, and sweat. His movements, which had started out swift and aggressive, slowed into a sensuous sampling of her delectable taste. He was overwhelmed, his head reeling from the forbidden fruit he had denied himself for so long. Why had he waited?

Through the haze, he became aware of her coil-like tension, her statuesque immobility. Jane inwardly cursed his foolhardy impulse. What had he been thinking? No, that's just it, he hadn't thought. So there they stood, two broken people in a broken room on a downward spiral of self-destruction. Then, Lisbon began to respond in kind.

Her lips captured his with a subdued ferocity that astounded him. She pushed herself closer, their bodies sparking from the contact. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, and one of her hands wove itself into his hair. Jane groaned at the incredible feeling. His hands slipped from her face, tracing the contours of her figure to encircle her waist. He pulled her tighter, eliciting a beautiful moan from Lisbon's throat, reverberating between their interwoven bodies. Jane didn't bother trying to think, he just let himself be washed away in a sea of sensation.

But, inevitably, the tide began to wane. Gradually the two found themselves regaining their faculties. Their holds on each other loosened, breathing evening out. As if waking from a deep sleep, they broke apart. Both took a moment to put a stopper in the flow of their previously untapped emotions. Jane watched with trepidation as Lisbon looked up at him with wide doe eyes. She licked her lips, and he wildly realized that she would taste him on her tongue.

"That…" She inhaled shakily. "That shouldn't have happened." Jane, who couldn't determine his own turbulent feelings on the matter, knew enough to agree.

"Yeah, yeah, like I said earlier, uh… you're not emotionally stable right now, a-and I'm certainly not—"

"N-no," Lisbon interrupted quickly, "I-I mean…" She trailed off and pursed her suddenly mesmerizing lips. Her hand reached for his yet hesitated an inch from his fingers. Jane lost his breath, the scant distance between their skin seeming like the space between the earth and the moon. Gingerly, her index and middle fingers skimmed his fourth finger. He was startled to feel the pressure against his ring. He looked down at the glint of gold under her touch. He'd forgotten about it. How could he have forgotten the symbol of his immense burden?

"Right." He murmured absently. They remained paralyzed in silence, the stuffiness of her living room growing overbearing. From his periphery he could see Lisbon wrap her arms around herself, as if she was very cold.

"I can't stay here." She reminded him. "Can you… Do you think you could drive me back to the station?" Jane glanced up, quickly assessing her state of mind: tentative, nervous, confused, and frightened. He repressed his own turmoil.

"Sure, of course." He replied, avoiding her eyes as she did the same. Jane turned and opened the door for her. He paused when she did not follow. He looked back. Lisbon stood alone in the center of the room, staring at the floor. She seemed in deep contemplation. "Teresa?" He said softly. Her head snapped up, and for the briefest moment he could see such a profound look of loss in her eyes. Then, as she always did, she buried the fleeting glimpse of vulnerability behind her stony exterior. Without so much as glancing at him, Lisbon strode out the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes! Finally we get to the good stuff! And the angsty consequences of said good stuff! Hopefully it all felt natural and real. I'm afraid this is the most romance you're going to get for a while, for various reasons.<strong>

**Yes, our heros are growing more irrational by the day. Fear and love will do that to you. What do you think Lisbon is hiding? I'd love to hear your speculation.**

**Laury.**


	6. Cerise

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 6_: Cerise

The CBI building was just beginning to come to life, the young and gentle rays of sunlight timidly illuminating the deserted office. Jane gazed at brightening bullpen from the kitchenette. He envied its clarity. His mind was profoundly muddled from his unexpected encounter with Lisbon. Several disturbing things had occurred last night, making sleep a hopeless dream.

He sighed, preparing what promised to be the first of many cups of tea. On autopilot, his hands filled the kettle with water. He put it in the microwave and rocked on his heels as he waited for it to boil.

Lisbon had been attacked, for the second time in three nights. By the same person, if her reaction was anything to go by. He had found her, gasping on the floor. Despite the startling nature of her injury, she had declined to go to the hospital. A stupid and stubborn move that began her recent streak of irrationality.

The beep of the timer pierced his thoughts. Jane gingerly removed the pot and moved to the refrigerator. He pulled out the milk and poured a small amount into his baby blue teacup. He lifted the boiling kettle and tipped the scalding water.

She had lied to him, had in fact been lying to him from the start. He realized that he would have discovered her deception much earlier had she described to him directly the events of that first night. Instead he had given her space, had made due with the written version. Incompetent. No wonder he couldn't convince her to confide in him. Lisbon had stonewalled him at every turn. Even when her life was at stake that woman was impossible.

He rifled through the cabinet, searching for his favorite blend. They were running low it seemed, he'd better tell… well…

What could be so important that she was willing to risk her life? No, not just risk. This was practically suicide. She had information that could be vital and she refused to tell him. How could she be so… He couldn't even bring himself to curse her name.

There, teabag in the steaming cup. He got a spoon, stirring the milk mixture absently.

They had shouted at each other. Screamed's more like it. They'd both said awful, hurtful things. Mostly her, to be honest. They hadn't had a fight like that since the beginning of their partnership, when he still saw her as a mindless drone and she him a nut-job nuisance. He felt like he had slid backwards in their Sisyphean relationship, loosing much of the progress he'd been making in getting closer to her. Progress that was probably not helped by what the shouting match had led up to.

He wrapped the teabag around the spoon, squeezing out the last of its flavor. He tossed the spent bag in the trash and made his way to the couch. Jane sank into its cushion with a sigh.

He had kissed her. On a mad impulse driven by fear he had kissed her. And she had kissed back, eventually. It had felt incredible. _She_ had felt incredible. He hadn't experienced something like that since…

But, as Lisbon had rightly pointed out once it had ended, they shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have done it. He was a madman ruled by grief on a perilous quest for vengeance. It would be ludicrous to involve Lisbon in his insanity. She was much better off staying far away from the likes of him.

Yet he had been guided by a very different emotion than grief when he had kissed her. Surely that had to count for something.

No. It really didn't. Besides, he didn't deserve what that sort of emotion could bring. Not now. Not with her.

Jane sighed again, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a fortifying gulp. He resolved himself to the agonizing task of distancing himself from her yet again.

"Long night?" He glanced up as Rigsby and Van Pelt walked in, looking bedraggled and discouraged.

"Uh, you have no idea." Jane replied, setting down the godsend of a beverage and turning his attention to his coworkers. Grace had forgotten a button and Wayne smelled like lilacs. Ah, so they were sleeping together again. Great timing guys.

"Oh," Van Pelt groaned as she fell into her chair, "We really do. We held all the people at the shooting range until we could verify their IDs and went over all of their witness statements twice. I'm pretty sure many of them are going to file unlawful imprisonment charges."

"Cho didn't let us leave until 2 AM." Rigsby added with a shudder.

"Thought I'd cut you a break." Cho's voice said, preceding the temporary leader's entrance. His usual imposing figure was undercut with weariness. He strode to his desk and tossed down a thick bundle of papers. "All the witnesses admitted that they didn't notice the attack taking place," He said, diving right in, "But five said they saw someone leaving the scene before we arrived."

"That's good news." Jane remarked, trying for a little optimism.

"Not exactly." Rigsby braced him.

"We've got one description of a tall muscular black man," Cho read out, "One of a guy in a wide brimmed hat and a cape, one of a bald white man with a brown bushy beard, one of a redheaded woman with a large green purse, and one from a kid who said it was a monster."

"Ah." Jane murmured. Rigsby smiled at him sympathetically.

"Yeah, eyewitness testimony is usually crap."

"We've still got to run them all down." Cho reminded them. "Rigsby."

"On it." He replied, swiveling on his chair to face his computer.

"Good, then I want you to check up on all our suspects, see if they've got an alibi for last night." Rigsby blinked and started typing frantically. Cho turned to the redhead. "Van Pelt, I want you to guard Lisbon. You don't let her out of your sight."

"Where is she?" Grace asked.

"Holed up in the attic, and make sure she stays there." She nodded, grabbed her sidearm, and headed for the stairs. Jane raised his hand.

"What can I do, boss?" He asked. Frustration creased Cho's brow.

"Can you figure out which of the reports is true?"

"Unfortunately no. They aren't lying, it's their brain manufacturing false information in an effort to be helpful. They are all convinced of what they saw. There's no point searching for deception. Sorry." Cho sighed at hearing what he already knew. He checked his watch.

"In a few hours I've got to go down to computer tech. They should've processed the security footage by then. You can come with me. Right now I've got to let our only viable suspect go because he couldn't have attacked Lisbon from the holding cell. Then I have a meeting where I've got to somehow convince the higher ups not to take the case from us." Cho stalked off before they could send their well wishes. The two remaining men looked at each other for a moment in shared commiseration for their friend. Jane reached for his tea.

Time passed as if in a bureaucratic blur. Once Cho returned over a half hour later, giving only a brief nod as to the result of his meeting, the agents were a whirlwind of emails and faxes. Jane, who purposely did not understand the intricacies of paper pushing, stayed sitting on his couch. He nursed the cooling liquid as his mind rehashed the details of the case so far. He had already decided to keep Lisbon's secret to himself, in no small part because of his pride.

"Thanks." Jane looked up as Cho read a sheet of paper, the messenger already retreating to the elevator. The CBI only used assistants or interns as delivery boys when sending crucial interdepartmental information.

"What is it?" He asked when the agent set it down.

"The report on those fibers found in her apartment." Cho answered. "Wool, specifically felt. Dyed charcoal."

"Felt?" Rigsby repeated. "What, like for a puppet?"

"Like for a hat." Cho corrected him. Rigsby blushed and hunched his shoulders. Cho checked his watch again. "Jane, come on, let's get to forensics."

* * *

><p>Jane stood awkwardly behind Cho as they waited for the tech person to key up the video. He watched his friend discretely, taking note of the tension in his muscles and his rigid posture. Apparently the latest attack had heightened the other man's self-recrimination, in addition to his drive to put the culprit behind bars.<p>

"It's not your fault you know." Jane muttered, low enough for only Cho to hear.

"Does knowing that make you feel any better?" The agent shot back immediately. Jane couldn't formulate a response to that loaded question, and was relieved when the tech finally announced that the clip was ready. They clustered eagerly around the tiny screen.

The video began to play, showing the beige colored lobby. The manager sat at his desk, a mug of coffee in front of him. A dark silhouette moved across the screen.

"Pause it." The tech obeyed. "What's that he's wearing?" Cho asked, squinting at the grainy quality. "You can't make out anything."

"A black overcoat," Jane guessed, "And some kind of hat. Fedora maybe? Talk about a cliche. Play it." The figure appeared to accidentally knock over a vase of daffodils. The manager bent down to pick it up, waving dismissively at the culprit. Swiftly the figure's arm shot out, dropping something into the mug and retreating almost instantly. "There!" Jane pointed. "He spiked the drink." Cho hummed in agreement. The man (was that a man?) exited the shot, leaving the manager to continue sipping his tainted coffee. Gradually, they could see the man's body stoop, until finally collapsing over his desk. The figure in black reappeared a moment later, crossing the room and moving to the door. The clip ended.

"Collar up, hat down, this guy is good." Cho said. "You can't tell hair color, facial characteristics, not even ethnicity."

"He knew where the cameras are." Jane replied. "He knew how to avoid them. That takes time and stealth. He's experienced."

"Here's the other one." The tech piped up, clicking something. A new image appeared, this one of the shooting stalls. Right in the middle of the long row stood a familiar figure. Jane couldn't help smiling as Lisbon, back to them, fired off several shots of a huge handgun. She wiped her brow with the back of her wrist and placed the gun on the surface in front of her. Then, in a flash, the shadow had shrouded her. Jane tensed. Cho cursed. The silhouette held her tightly with an arm around her waist. His free hand, covered in a black glove, slowly removed her ear protection, setting it on the table. The fedora moved closer.

"He's whispering in her ear." Jane murmured in astonishment.

"As he's cutting her." Cho added in disbelief. "Look." He gestured to the screen. The gloved hand had reached into its pocket and pulled out a glinting blade. He raised it to her neck. Once there, the figure's elbow moved horizontally, a clear indicator of the path of his knife. Several moments passed of agonizingly slow motion. "God damn, he's drawing it out."

"Making sure she gets the message." Jane surmised.

"What message?"

"I have no idea." He admitted helplessly. The two friends watched as, finally, the figure in black released her and rushed out of frame. Lisbon dropped to her knees, hands clasping her throat. She turned towards the camera, gasping in an attempt to alert someone of her condition. No one came. The tech stopped the video.

"The other cameras just show a black blur as he exits." He told them. "Sorry. There's nothing else to see."

* * *

><p>Jane walked in to the bullpen, finding it empty. Right, as they'd been leaving the computer lab Cho had called Rigsby's cell, ordering him to fetch the remaining suspect list or some such thing. Jane hadn't paid much attention. He was too absorbed in rumination.<p>

The guy talked to her. That was the lie. It was obvious now. Most psychopaths couldn't resist ranting about their motivations. It was just their nature; they craved, like everyone, to be understood.

The first time, he had probably spoken extensively with her as soon as she noticed him, before they fought. He could picture the scene, Lisbon wary but receptive, circling the unexpected foe who spouted off vile nonsense. Except… it couldn't have been nonsense. Lisbon had been persuaded. She was convinced that whatever this person wanted was worth her life.

Jane vehemently disagreed. Nothing could be worth that.

He paused at his couch. A bundle lay in his usual spot, a note on yellow pad paper on top. He glanced around. Still empty. Curious, he sat down and picked up the note. He smiled softly at her messy handwriting.

_Jane,_

_I got the stain out. It should be good as new. Van Pelt let me go back for it. _There was a faint imprint of eraser marks under her next words. Clearly they had made the cut over previous sentences. _It's not a big deal, I don't have much else to do now. I hope you don't mind, I had to use some of my shampoo._ Another round of eraser marks. _Thanks. I don't want you to worry about me but thank you for caring._

_Lisbon._

Jane's smile widened. It was a peace offering. A token of apology. A thoughtful gesture that meant there were no hard feelings. He reached for the vest, lifting it up to examine it. There was no trace of blood. Lisbon had a way with removing blood stains, it seemed. He dropped it and took off his jacket. He unbuttoned his current vest and exchanged it. He fiddled with the hem, pleased when it fit exactly the same. Jane lay down, hands under his head, and breathed in deep. He released a contented sigh upon being enveloped by the familiar scent of cinnamon.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the late update, things have been kind of crazy getting ready for Christmas Eve.<strong>

**Believe it or not, the hardest part about writing this chapter was Jane making tea. I listened to several episodes to figure out how he takes it (milk or sugar, bag or loose, etc), and I tried to find out if their kitchenette has a stove or a burner or something. I settled for a microwave and I'm pretending that it's big enough for a small pot.**

**Again, if you haven't cottoned on to the oscillating tone of the story… savor this sweetness.**

**Happy Holidays,**

**Laury**


	7. Rust

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 7_: Rust

"What are you doing here?" Jane asked in surprise as Van Pelt entered the bullpen. She fell into her chair, looking emotionally worn.

"Boss kicked me out." She grumbled. "Said she wanted to be alone. Course all she's gonna do is stare out the window like a freaking zombie. It's all she did while I was there, I don't see what the difference is." She paused in her tirade, finally taking notice of his vest. "Oh. You got it then?"

"Uh, yes." He replied, glancing down. "Thank you for, um…"

"Yeah, I know I probably shouldn't have, but she was really insistent about it." Van Pelt said, a soft smile overtaking her irritation. "Practically ordered me to accompany her so she could wash it. It was sweet, how important it was to her." That knowing twinkle was back in her eye. "But then I've always thought you two were sweet." Jane slowly shook his head.

"Watch out, Grace," He warned, only half jokingly, "Your femininity is showing." She laughed a little.

"I know, I know, you probably think I'm foolish or naive or something. I believe in psychics, God, and true love. You might as well discount anything I say." He opened his mouth to interject but she stopped him with a look. She went on, determined to speak her piece. "I've noticed the special connection you and Lisbon share since my first case here. It's only become more obvious through the years. And I know you both have baggage, terrible shadows hanging over you, but I also know that when you're together, it's like the sun breaks through, just for a moment. And maybe, just maybe, it's not about physical attraction, but that doesn't make it any less meaningful. You love each other." Jane stared blankly at her, willing his trusted facade to mask the wild beating of his heart and the rushing in his ears. Grace grinned ruefully at his silence. "This isn't my place of course, and I doubt you'll listen to me anyway. Who knows why I'm even telling you this. Maybe I'm just too tired. Maybe these attacks are driving me crazy. Or maybe, somehow, something's changed. Only a little, but enough to count. I'm hoping it's the latter." Their strange conversation was cut short as Cho and Rigsby walked in.

"What the hell, Van Pelt," Cho began with surprising fervor, "I told you not to leave Lisbon's side."

"She made me go!"

"I don't care if she threatened you at gunpoint, get back up there."

"Kimball, come on," Jane cut in kindly, "She needs a break. Heaven knows Lisbon is difficult at the best of times." Cho took a deep breath, appearing to see reason. Grace shot Jane a grateful glance.

"Fine." He relented. "Rigsby, you go up. If she gets mad, just stand outside the door."

"For how long?"

"Until I say jump." Cho barked. Rigsby hurriedly shuffled away. "Van Pelt, you'll take his job. Go to the homes of the suspects without alibis and see if they own a black fedora or overcoat."

"Wait, an alibi for the first night or last night?"

"Either." Was Cho's curt response. Pursing her lips, she stood and made her way to the elevator. Jane eyed the only remaining agent keenly. Cho allowed his posture to droop slightly. "The manager of the range couldn't describe the man on the tape." He addressed Jane without looking at him. "His memory is fuzzy from the drug. He wore gloves so there are no prints on the earmuffs. This guy is a ghost. Contract killer?" Jane hummed thoughtfully.

"It would explain his prowess at remaining untraceable. However there is one fatal flaw in that theory: he'd have to be the most inept hitman in the world. He's had her at his mercy twice and she's gotten away with a bump on the head and a bad scratch. No, there's something personal here. You saw the way he held her." Cho nodded.

"Yeah, intimate almost. An ex-lover?" Jane almost laughed aloud.

"No. Lisbon rejects even the most appealing of suitors. Her intuition is too good to get her involved with someone this disturbed. I imagine this man is more of a voyeur than someone she's interacted with physically." Cho sighed as he sat in his chair, rubbing his temples.

"Then I have nothing." He admitted sourly.

"We'll catch him." Jane reassured him. "As long as she cooperates." He added resentfully.

"What's with not wanting to go to the hospital?" Cho wondered, raising his head. "She's not you. She's been shot before and she's never complained this much."

"I don't know." Jane replied, the words nearly killing him. His friend must have noticed the effort it took to utter them, but he thankfully declined to comment.

"At least she's not being totally unreasonable." Jane glanced at him, head tilting in question. Cho elaborated. "Lisbon allowed a forensic chick to examine her neck this morning. Thankfully there wasn't much damage. Her trachea did get cut by the blade but it's very shallow, not nearly deep enough to be concerned about. The girl said it was remarkable that none of the arteries or veins were hit. Even the most low level punk can cause severe damage there given the chance." An epiphany struck.

"He wanted her alive." Jane murmured. "Both times, he wanted her alive."

"What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I can tell you one thing: this isn't over." Cho held his gaze for a grim moment before dropping it. He opened a file on his desk and skimmed it.

"Well, speculation isn't gonna get this guy." He said as he read. He looked up at Jane, who still sat immobile in musings. "Hey." Jane met his eyes. "Can I trust you to make some calls? We've got to run down the alibis for last night." He sat up straighter.

"Of course."

"Really?" Cho pressed. Jane rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I get it, all hands on deck, everyone has to chip in."

"It doesn't help that we're a man down." Cho remarked, returning to his work. It was clear he was not talking about Rigsby.

* * *

><p>Jane hung up the phone, triumphant through his fatigue. He tousled his hair as he sighed.<p>

"That's the last of them." He announced to the team leader. Cho glanced up from scribbling on his note pad.

"Well?" He asked, clasping his hands. Jane held up the list he'd compiled.

"Three of them are shaky but the rest are solid. At least no one tried to outright lie to me." Jane folded it into a paper airplane and tossed it to Cho. He caught it with a disapproving scowl. Jane shrugged semi-apologetically. He stood and stretched, feeling his back give several satisfying pops. "What did you come up with?" He asked.

"No relevant police reports in the area last night or in the two weeks leading up to it." Cho rattled off. "No speeding tickets or stolen cars. No black coated and fedora wearing perps with similar MOs in the system. Oh, and Lisbon's never filed a restraining order." He checked his watch. "Van Pelt will be calling soon. I guess I should send her home. It's not like we have anymore leads."

"Come on, don't think like that." Jane chided, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Something will turn up." He turned his gaze to the hall, staring absently in thought towards the stairwell.

"You should go see Lisbon." Cho said suddenly. Jane started at the non sequitur and turned to see his friend eyeing him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You want to," Cho stated simply, "You've wanted to all day. So go. She's probably missing you too."

"I…" He trailed off helplessly. He supposed there was no need to deny it. Sparing the agent an awkward glance, he took off for the attic. As he climbed the stairs, he saw Rigsby leaning against the wall, arms crossed and looking bored. He blinked when he spotted Jane approaching.

"Oh, hey." He greeted with a yawn. "What's up?"

"Uh, nothing." Jane replied, shifting slightly in embarrassment. "I just wanted to say good night." Rigsby smiled, with no trace of mocking. He understood his motivations.

"Sure man." He said, moving aside. Jane nodded in thanks and opened the door. He stepped over the threshold, letting the door fall into place, and paused to admire the scene. Lisbon sat on his bed, legs drawn to her chest, arms folded over her knees, resting her chin on her hands. She faced the window, gazing out over the rooftops, the setting sun lighting her profile a brilliant orange. From what little he could make out of her face, she appeared blank with a subtle touch of melancholy. She didn't seem to have noticed him. While a better man might've felt privileged to observe her so freely, his ego demanded her attention.

"Lisbon." He whispered, drawing nearer. She jumped, head spinning around and eyes slowly focusing in recognition.

"Oh." She murmured. "Jane, hi… What are you doing here?" He moved closer until he stood less than a foot away from her.

"It's late." He said, the words sounding stilted and unnatural to his own ears. "I'm probably going to get something to eat. Do you want something?"

"Maybe…" She shook her head as if to clear it of cobwebs. "What time is it?"

"About 7:30."

"Really? Wow." Lisbon bit her lip and glanced back to the window. Jane caught the worrying movement.

"The others tell me you've been out of it all day." He said gingerly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She answered quickly. "Just have a lot of thinking to do, that's all."

"What kind of thinking?" He asked, without really considering his words. She shot him a look, obviously declining to answer. For a moment his jaw clenched in frustration but he let it go. "Thank you." He said instead. She turned back to him.

"For wha— oh, yeah." She said, noting his vest. Her cheeks, which would have flamed any other time, merely colored a light pink. "Like I said, it was nothing."

"No, no," He countered, trying for levity, "I would have thrown this out. You saved my wardrobe." She smiled thinly at his exaggeration.

"Seriously, don't mention it." Jane tilted his head and lowered his gaze. He still felt like he should say something more. This awkwardness could not persist.

Deciding to take a risk, he began, "I suppose I should apologize about—"

"No," She silenced him, "You don't have to."

"But I think I ought to explain."

"Really, it's fine." She insisted. "It's not a big deal." Jane frowned. Her dismissive attitude stung surprisingly deep.

"Lisbon, it is a big deal." He told her seriously. "At least to me. You know why." He flashed his wedding ring. She averted her eyes. "It was the first time in almost a decade that I… well, did anything like that. You're the only one who…" Her gaze returned to his. Her eyes were such a piercing, dazzling green. The stare in them was intense, rich with all sorts of treacherous emotions. It took phenomenal effort to maintain his train of thought. "I mean, obviously you're right," He continued, feeling unexpectedly jittery, "Nothing can come of it. Neither of us are exactly in a place where… Certainly not me. I can't… not until…"

"I know." She murmured, cutting him off. She radiated warmth and kindness and forgiveness. Jane breathed a sigh of relief, yet it was tinged with a strange sadness. He wasn't sure if he'd been hoping she would understand, or not. Perhaps he would have preferred she fought for them.

"The fact that it happened at all," He said softly, "Has to tell you something."

"It does." Lisbon answered. She closed her eyes as she admitted, "It was very nice. The best kiss I've had in a long time."

"Mine too, not that that's saying much." He chuckled weakly before sobering. "I wish I could—"

"Me too." She replied simply. Jane assessed her veracity; the subdued smile, open eyes, and smooth brow did not lie. He grinned, feeling his posture relax imperceptibly.

"Great." He said with his usual exuberance, stepping backwards a little towards the door. "So, what do you want for dinner?" Her muscles loosened as well at the normality of the question.

"Depends, where are you going?"

"I just planned to hit the pizza place across the street."

"Ooh, get me some garlic knots!" Jane gave a thumbs up, earning him a toothy grin.

"Will do." He was about to turn and leave when something must have occurred to her.

"Hey, wait. Send Rigsby home." He stopped, narrowing his eyes. She sat with forced nonchalance, her posture more pleading than her expression let on.

"That doesn't seem like a very good idea." He said slowly.

"Please?" Her inflection was passive yet persuasive. "I'm in the most heavily protected building in Sacramento, there's no need for this. Plus, he's been dying to see Van Pelt all afternoon." Jane chuckled. His Lisbon was such a bleeding heart, and astute as well. This was clearly important to her, and she did have a point. He supposed he could be swayed, just this once.

"Sure, if it will make you happy." He headed for the door once again.

"Thank you." She said, almost inaudibly. He tossed her a smile over his shoulder as he walked through the doorway. Rigsby eyed him teasingly as the door shut behind him.

"That was one long goodbye." He remarked with badly repressed laughter. Jane clapped a hand to his shoulder, in too agreeable a mood to retaliate.

"Boss says you should go home." Predictably, conflict arose in his features. "It's late, so unless Cho was going to shell out for overtime you'd be leaving anyway. Besides, this is a high security building. She's in good hands." Convinced, Rigsby grinned, giddy at the prospect of seeing his redheaded partner. The two trotted down the steps together, both in good spirits from their respective love interests.

* * *

><p>Jane, pizza box balanced on one arm, eagerly climbed the steps two at a time. They were eating together, just like before. Maybe they could talk more. Maybe she would divulge more insight into her past. Maybe he'd get a chance to touch her. It would be innocent of course, a brush of the hand, a graze of their knees, but it would be enough to sustain him.<p>

He was so consumed by pleasant fantasy that when he finally caught sight of the note hanging on the attic door, it cut through him like a cold knife. The pizza and garlic knots fell to the floor but he did not hear the impact.

_Dear mister Jane,_

_I am truly sorry for what you are about to see, but your lovely Teresa has pushed me too far. Really, I'm surprised that even you could not force her to impart the details of my deal. Do not allow her to sidestep again. It is you or her. Make your choice._

It was unsigned. Hand shaking, Jane opened the door. The air rushed out of him. On the window directly across from him, backlit by the full moon, was a red smiley face. Against his will, his gaze moved to the bed. Face up, eyes closed as if in sleep, Lisbon lay still. Gashes covered her body, peeking out through her torn apparel. There was so much blood.

Jane fell to his knees. Oh God… not again… not her… not her too…

Things became a haze. He found himself backed into the corner, curled into a tight ball. Somehow his trembling fingers managed to call Cho, yet he could not find his voice. The agent must've understood something in his silence because a few minutes later (or was it days?) hurried footsteps clattered urgently up the stairs. He bypassed the note and barreled into the room. He gasped. The agent rushed to assess her condition, shouting for assistance. A lumbering and recognizable figure appeared in the room as well. The tall man took one look at her, swore, and hunched over, heaving the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

Jane didn't notice much else as the attic was swarmed by all sorts of people. He couldn't gather the mental faculties to identify or decipher them. So, he ignored them, let them fade into the background of his mind, and instead trained his eyes on the recumbent figure in his bed. He hardly blinked as he watched her immobile form lying in the gentle moonlight. She looked like an angel, pale and perfect.

He started when they began to lift Lisbon, trying to take her away. She couldn't leave, he'd lost too much already. He tried to speak, to stop them. Vaguely he heard someone telling him meaningless words like 'help' and 'hospital' and 'alive'. He was not calmed however until a warm feminine body pressed herself into his side. She was familiar, and for a wild moment he hoped to see dark brown hair buried in his shoulder. It was red. She was weeping, sobs that racked her whole body. On instinct, his arm hugged her to him. Her sounds of grief intensified. He rested his cheek on her head, a fleeting memory of holding a little girl spurring him on. That was when he realized he was crying too.

* * *

><p><strong>Gosh… erm… Did you have a nice Christmas?<strong>

**...Please don't hate me!**

**Yes, we have reached the reveal, the beginning of the climax. The roller coaster ride is pretty much over, now things will just move between bitter sweet and OHGODWHY! Sort of.**

**I have to say, this is one of my very favorite chapters. With Grace's speech (definitely a lot of my influence there), Cho's epic detective skills, the adorable make up scene, and the dissociative break down. What was your favorite part?**

**Only two more weeks people! Things are definitely happening now!**

**Love and apologies,**

**Laury the Barking**


	8. Cardinal

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 8_: Cardinal

Jane detested hospitals. They were hovels of death and decay. No matter what you were there for, visiting or admitted, there was no escaping the stench of disease. It curled into your nostrils and clogged your brain with the grim reminder of your own mortality. At least this one held no illusion of hope. The walls were a bleak grey, the chairs hard and unpleasant, and the nurses merely cast them dismissive glares as they went about their work. Jane loathed it here.

Cho paced the waiting room like a caged panther, imposing yet made tame by circumstance. Rigsby and Van Pelt sat together, him locked in guilt and her bound by her unfailing empathy. Jane leaned against the wall closest to the operating room. He had hoped that proximity would hasten the doctor's return.

Van Pelt perked up, red-rimmed eyes widening at something down the corridor. Jane turned to see the doctor approaching them, white coat, scrubs, chart and all. Cho accosted him before he could speak.

"How is she?" The doctor tucked the clipboard under his armpit and tiredly removed his bloodied gloves. Jane stared at the scarlet stains in horrified fascination.

"She's stable." He announced to the group. They all made varying noises of relief. "Most of her cuts were pretty shallow but we sewed them up. However, she lost a lot of blood. We had to give her a transfusion. We were confused about something, perhaps you can clear this up. There was blood on her toes but there were no injuries to her feet." Jane shut his eyes, the information striking him painfully.

"He painted her toenails." Rigsby moaned, hiding his face in his hands. Van Pelt rubbed his back comfortingly as she held back more tears.

"It's part of the assailant's MO." Cho quietly explained to the doctor.

"I see." He said, looking visibly disturbed. He collected himself and continued, flipping some papers on his clipboard. "Now, because she showed signs of being drugged we were hesitant to give her a sedative. We were limited to local anesthesia. Thankfully she didn't wake up during the procedure." This jolted Jane into speech.

"She was drugged?" He asked. "That doesn't make sense. Are you sure?" The doctor nodded.

"We ran a tox screen to be sure. She had codeine in her system." Jane shook his head in puzzlement.

"That doesn't make any sense." He repeated. "Red John likes his victims awake, so he can see what he does to them. Why would she be injected with a painkiller?" The rest of the team looked back at him blankly. The doctor cleared his throat uncomfortably, drawing their attention.

"I'm not sure who to ask about this." He prefaced uncertainly. "You said that Detective Lisbon—"

"Special Agent." Cho corrected immediately.

"Right, Special Agent Lisbon had recently been injured twice before." They nodded. "So that accounts for the back of her head and the cut on her neck. She also has other scars, much older." The three agents shared a nonplussed look. Jane spoke up, feeling unexpectedly guilty for knowing this dark detail of their leader's past.

"That's also accounted for." Van Pelt gaped at him.

"What?" She asked quizzically. Jane shook his head, requesting her silence.

"Okay…" The doctor continued, appearing to gather his courage. "But there's another scar that we can't figure out." They all perked up, focusing intently on the doctor. "It's only a couple of days old, but we've never seen anything like it." He fussed with the papers on his clipboard, pulling out what, from the back, seemed a printed photograph. He turned it around. They all drew in shocked breaths.

* * *

><p>Jane sat in the harsh plastic seat by her bedside. He was alone in the dimly lit hospital room. He'd asked the others to let him be the one to question her. Given the circumstances, they'd agreed.<p>

Lisbon lay still under the crisp white sheets, only a few shades away from the pallor of her skin. She slept soundly, and every so often her face would twitch, reminding him that her state was not permanent. He supposed they were lucky: she hadn't needed much bulky medical equipment, she was breathing on her own, the IV was slowly replenishing her fluids, and the beat of her heart was broadcast for him to take solace in. One of the nurses had even been kind enough to wash her feet.

Jane watched her in silence. To any observer he was calm and composed. However, his mind was in disarray from her most ultimate betrayal. He should have deduced it was Red John, thinking back there were signs. He had been blinded by his feelings for Lisbon as surely as he had been blinded once before by his hubris.

What felt like thousands of thoughts churned in his head of how to handle the situation. He only hoped he would be prepared when she awoke. No sooner had he thought that though did he hear her begin to mumble.

"W-wha…" Lisbon's eyes blinked open. Her gaze roamed around the room, and she soon surmised where she was. "A hospital?" She muttered in confusion. "What am I doing here? I thought I was…" She trailed off, eyes settling on Jane. They both observed the other wordlessly. A look of wariness overtook her features. Rightly so, as she had no idea how much he knew.

"Good morning." He began blandly. Her gaze darted to the window, where the stars still marred the ink blue sky. "It's almost 4 AM," He explained, "So technically it's the morning." She nodded, chewing on her lower lip. Jane stood and sauntered closer to her bed. He stopped when he was towering over her, looking down as she watched him with apprehension. "You have some explaining to do." He told her, still in that carefully neutral tone. Lisbon licked her lips nervously.

"I don't know what you mean." Jane grinned, aware that it did not meet his eyes.

"Oh Lisbon." He leaned in and cupped her cheek. Her mouth fell open in surprise. He stroked her skin with the pad of his thumb, letting the feigned expression fall. "You're such a terrible liar." Swiftly he moved his hand and pulled down the neck of her gown.

"Jane!" She gasped. When she saw what he had revealed she shut her eyes in shame. Carved into her flesh, Red John's mark smiled grimly up at Jane. Above her left breast, four simple strokes were branded forever over her heart. He released her and stalked away, enraged by the mere sight of it, the reminder of her treachery and his folly.

"Were you planning on mentioning this little detail?" He spat at her. Lisbon rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand, eyes still closed.

"It's not what you think."

"Like hell it isn't!" Her eyelids popped open and she glared at him.

"Don't," She enunciated sternly, "Talk to me that way."

"Then stop lying to me!" He snarled, rushing towards her bedside. "I found a note, on the door, guess who it was from?" Sympathy blossomed on her face.

"Oh God."

"Yeah." He sneered. "So he offered you a deal, did he? Something you were supposed to pass on to me. Only you never did. And here we are." Jane leaned nearer, almost menacing. "Now tell me." She breathed out at the order, releasing her reticence and conceding defeat.

"Sit." She started simply. He obliged and scrutinized her as she collected her thoughts. "When I came home, he was waiting for me. I turned around and there he was. He wore a halloween mask under a hat and a long black trench coat. I couldn't identify him but he told me who he was." Lisbon closed her now watery eyes. "He said I'd interfered with his plans. I asked how and he said I was a distraction. For you. I kept you from playing his game." Jane scrubbed a hand over his face. "But," She continued waveringly, "He said I could make it up to him. He wanted you to meet with him. If I told you where, I could live. I asked why he didn't just tell you himself. He laughed. He said he'd been watching me for a while and that I'm more interesting than most. He wanted a chance to play with me a little too." Her hand curled into a fist. "That's when I lunged at him and we fought. Like I said, he overpowered me. When I woke up… I saw what he did to me. I was terrified that you… that anyone would see it."

"That's why you refused to go be admitted." Jane added for her. "You knew an examination would reveal the face." Lisbon nodded, gasping a little to hold in her sobs. "What about the next attack?" He pressed. "What did he say then?" She shuddered a little at the memory.

"I thought he would kill me. He was so close and he had a knife. But he just whispered that I had to act soon. Said if I didn't tell you he would do it himself. He'd allowed me two days but he was getting impatient, he'd only give me one more. The next time would be the last."

"You thought that meant he'd kill you. That's why you were confused just now, you expected to be dead." She nodded again. Jane stood angrily once more. "Then why the hell did you just accept it? You knew he was coming last night and you still had me send Rigsby away! Why? Why wouldn't you just tell me?"

"Because—"

"If you told me where to meet him I could've ended this days ago! I could have saved you this pain!"

"Because I—"

"What could possess you to throw your life away for him? Why would you refuse to—"

"Because I knew if I did you'd never come back!" Lisbon shouted. Jane froze. He stared at her in stupefied silence. She was crying in earnest now, delicate silver tears running down flushed cheeks. "If I told you where to meet him," She went on quietly, breathily, "I knew that I would never see you again. He would kill you, or you him; either way, I would lose you. I couldn't let that happen."

"So you ensured that I would lose you?" He asked hoarsely. "What kind of selfishness is that?" There was a poignant pause.

"Apparently," She murmured at last, looking up at him through her wet lashes, "I can't live without you." Jane watched her, a familiar weight settling in his chest. He wondered what he should say to her. She was right, nothing would be the same after today. Suddenly all the things left unsaid through the years seemed to clog his throat. The words Van Pelt had attributed to them earlier came back to him with dizzying force. Could he?

No. Despite their kernel of truth he knew he could not do it. Not only because it would be ill received, but because he simply wasn't ready. And neither was she.

"Teresa," He started seriously instead, "I'd never want you to martyr yourself for me. I don't deserve it, you have to know that."

"Don't." She said as she averted her gaze. His shoulders dropped in disappointment. Why did she always pick the most inopportune times to doubt him? He shook his head and moved on.

"So where is it I'm supposed to go?" He asked with thinly veiled frustration. Lisbon bit her lip hard and said nothing. Obviously she was still reluctant to give up that information. He hunched his posture, lowering his eye line so she was forced to meet his gaze. "Lisbon," He said, voice deep and soothing, and just barely hypnotic, "I need you to tell me. My mind is made up. I have to go. Please. Tell me. Where do I go?" Slowly but surely he watched her defenses crumble.

"I don't know the exact place." She mumbled. "He was cryptic. He said you'd know what it meant." She hesitated again. He inclined his head and gestured for her to continue. Lisbon sighed. "All he said was to meet him at the place you never go." Jane spun away from her, mind whirring. Superficially that could apply to a lot of places, the Eiffel Tower, Alabama, that sushi place that made him sick once, etc. But Red John was a sadist, and a sophisticated one at that. There was only one possible location.

"The cemetery." He murmured in astonishment.

"What?" He turned back to her worried and inquisitive face.

"The cemetery where my wife and daughter are buried." He explained quickly, already absorbed in ideas, plans, and conclusions. He ran a hand through his curls as his mind reached a feverish pitch. Meanwhile Lisbon was still puzzling through it.

"Wait, you never—" Jane silenced her with a sharp glance.

"He's there, he has to be." He rambled on, voice hardly quick enough to articulate his thoughts. "By their graves. He's probably been waiting there for days. Watching though, he's been watching. Surveillance equipment? Maybe. He'll be there now though, he has to know I know." He grabbed his suit jacket as he headed for the door. "I've got to go."

"Jane, please!" She called, voice cracking in desperation. He stopped, whirling around in surprise. He'd been so intent he'd almost forgotten about her. Lisbon had stopped crying and she'd wiped away the tear tracks. The only evidence of her distress were her puffy eyes and clumped lashes. "Please," She repeated softly, "Don't go." He felt the ice encasing his heart melt a little at her request. He had the fleeting urge to tell her that he was doing this for her; that for months, almost years now, the knowledge that Red John might one day murder her as well had rivaled his previous villainous motivation. But again, she would never believe him.

Jane strode slowly to her side. Her mouth was parted delicately as she gazed up at him beseechingly. He returned his hand to her face so it gently cradled her cheek. Her eyes became questioning, with the slightest tinge of hope. Jane bent down and kissed her forehead. She made a faint noise in the back of her throat, almost like a hum. He let his lips linger on her skin as he committed the sensation to memory. When he finally pulled back, he lowered his head so they could see eye to eye. He had no words to offer her, so he dropped the mask. He allowed her to read him, every turbulent emotion laid bare in his earnest expression. It was the only parting gift he could give her. Lisbon's eyes widened as she grasped the significance of the unfettered view. Her face softened as she perused his soul. She raised her hand and laid it on his cheek as well. He felt the scrape of her IV and it made him want to weep.

"I have two favors to ask of you." Lisbon murmured, her fingertips tenderly caressing his temple.

"I can't make any promises." He replied, in an equally subdued tone.

"I know." It was a simple assurance but he treasured it. He had always taken her understanding for granted. Now he had so little time to savor it. She smiled thinly, a facsimile of her usual radiance. "First, I want you to tell someone what you're about to do."

"I've told you."

"Tell Cho. He deserves to know." Although it went against all his instincts, he nodded. The pressure of her hand on his face increased. Lisbon's features crumpled. "Don't say goodbye." She begged, gasping and trying desperately to keep her composure. He shushed her gently, moving his hand soothingly over her cheek. She sniffed, regaining control. "Don't say goodbye because it won't last forever." Her free hand moved to the cross hanging below her bandage. Jane smiled ruefully. He declined to inform her that, in the off chance there was a God and an afterlife as she believed, it was unlikely he would ever be meeting her in Heaven.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh so sad! Jane is going off to confront his shadowy adversary. Lisbon is left broken and crying for his soul. What next? You'll find out Friday. Read on, my friends!<strong>

**Wishing you nothing but joy,**

**Laury.**


	9. Vermilion

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 9_: Vermilion

Jane walked swiftly into the waiting room. The worn and weary faces of the team looked up at his entrance.

"Well?" Cho asked. Jane stuffed his hands in his pockets, still rattled and restless.

"She's awake. She's okay." Van Pelt let out a relieved sigh and Rigsby scrubbed a hand over his face. Jane gestured to Cho to follow him. Confused, Cho complied. Jane lead them wordlessly down the hall, around a corner, and into a men's room. At this point Cho was exasperated.

"Alright, what's with the cloak and dagger routine?" He said, folding his arms and leaning against the sinks. Jane rubbed at his eyes.

"I have to go." He said simply. The other man instantly became alert.

"Why? What did she tell you?" He demanded.

"Red John wants to meet with me." Jane explained. "It's why he's been doing this. This was the message he was trying to send. Lisbon wanted to protect me but I finally got her to cooperate. I know where to go now." Cho absorbed this information as he watched him shrewdly.

"Then why are you still here?" It was not a veiled order as the words might have otherwise suggested. Jane recognized it as an honest inquiry. Cho knew and understood that, left to his own devices, Jane would already be on his way, his unrelenting mission spurring him onward.

"Lisbon made me promise not to go off half-cocked. She wanted me to tell you first. So this is what I'm doing." Cho put his hands on his hips, shifting as he considered what to do. There was a long pause that made Jane's skin prickle with impatience.

"You can't kill him, Jane." Cho said at last. "There are too many complications, and Lisbon doesn't want you to." Jane didn't respond. "You have some sort of plan, right?" He went on tersely. "You're you, you have to. What is it?" Jane sighed. As he opened his mouth to answer, they were distracted by yelling in the hallway.

"Miss Lisbon! Miss Lisbon!" Alarmed, the two men quickly exited the bathroom, hurrying to meet the nurse who was sprinting down the hall.

"Whoa!" Cho called urgently, flashing her his badge. "What's wrong? What's happened to Lisbon?"

"I-I don't know." The nurse stuttered nervously. "She's not in her room, I'm trying to find her but…" Jane was already running, the tread of Cho's shoes almost a perfect echo. Jane burst into the room, looking wildly around. Hospital sheets rumpled, her gown tossed on the chair, her clothes and shoes gone…

"She left!" He exclaimed, striding furiously to the bed where not 15 minutes ago he had bared his heart to her. He resisted the urge to overturn the blank medical monitors in his rage.

"Jane." He turned at the curt but insistent syllable. Cho stood by the table that held her personal effects. It was empty but for one object that he slowly lifted out. He showed it to Jane. Her badge. "Her gun is missing." The agent stated needlessly.

"She left of her own volition." Jane deduced, falling onto the bed as he felt suddenly weak. "Her death wish isn't over, she's gone to confront him alone. She's going to try and end this herself." The morbid assessment blanketed the room in silence. Cho, his composure broken, looked lost. Jane closed his eyes at Lisbon's damnable mix of stupidity and selflessness. He drew a deep breath and pushed off of the bed, moving for the door. "Red John doesn't work like that. He won't let her, any of us, off that easy. Come on, we've got work to do."

* * *

><p>Jane slammed the door of his Citroën, mentally apologizing to his beloved car. As he walked away, he wondered what would become of it. If everything worked out, he would be able to pick it up again. But he had found that with Red John involved, it was rare that things went as planned. Would he survive today? More importantly, would Lisbon? Jane took the luxury of pushing away these bleak thoughts. He'd find out soon enough.<p>

For now, he basked in sensation. The sun was just beginning to rise, thin wisps of purple and pink driving away the navy blue. The wind was cool and pleasant against his weary face. He felt the crunch of well manicured grass under his shoes. He pushed the black iron gate open with a loud creak. His feet tread a path that, although they had only traced it twice before, they would never forget. The weight of a gun sat heavy in his pocket. Rows and rows of tombstones passed by, some light, some dark, some tall and elaborate, some simple markers.

Jane was trying not to look at them all. Their vastness was unnerving. It was then that he saw it. Up ahead, in front of the two graves he'd been dreading, was the figure of a woman, kneeling and hunched over as if in prayer. A petite brunette figure with a blazer and sidearm. Jane sped up into a run.

"Lisbon!" He called. She didn't move. He reached a frantic pace as he drew closer. He dropped to his knees beside her, hardly glancing at the two slabs of granite that had lead them there. He touched her shoulder, alarmed when she remained unresponsive. He rolled her over, taking care to be gentle. Her eyes were shut and her features slack. Drugged. Jane hurried to his feet but faltered as a needle was jammed into his neck. A rush of warmth entered his blood stream and he was instantly woozy. He struggled to spin around. His vision blurry, he could only make out a black blob without a face watching him slowly lose consciousness. When he could fight it no longer, he collapsed into the grass. His last thought, vague and hazy, was that he was glad he had not fallen on Lisbon.

* * *

><p>He was floating in darkness. There was no pain, no feeling, no sense of self. It was peaceful. But then, out of the abyss, sound began to pour in. A voice speaking strange words dragged him gradually to consciousness.<p>

"Jane! Jane, can you hear me? Jane, wake up! Jane!"

He opened his eyes. He was lying face up on a concrete floor staring up at a grey concrete ceiling. His gaze slowly swiveled around the room. Also grey, also concrete, with no pictures or windows to disrupt the uniformity. He lifted his head slightly to get a better view. There was little furniture except for a spindly legged table that held a pot of flowers, a lit lamp, and a CD player releasing a floating classical melody, standing next to a red armchair by the door. The door, he assumed, judging by the heavy bolts, was locked.

Jane started at a hand on his shoulder. He looked around.

"Lisbon?" He rasped, disoriented. It didn't help that she did not resemble the Lisbon he remembered. She was gleaming with sweat, her hair matted with it. Her expression was frightened and strained. She was dressed in only her short sleeved top and her jeans, both of which were ripped. Underneath the torn fabric blood sluggishly seeped through her old wounds. The bandage that had covered her throat was gone.

"Jane," She began, and her voice was ragged, "Are you okay?" He wasn't sure, but he knew that the question would be better directed at her. She persisted however. "How is your vision? Is it blurry? How many fingers am I—"

"Lisbon, hush, I'm fine." He said, waving her concerns away. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, mostly supported by the wall. He felt a rush of dizziness and shut his eyes, focusing on the music as he regained equilibrium. Something registered then. "Wait…" Jane glanced back to the table. "That's Bach… Bach, he's playing Bach…" His breathing sped up. Flowers… red poppies. Red, the red armchair. Oh no… "Lisbon, we have to get out of here." He urged her with growing panic.

"I know, Jane, but we can't." She replied tearfully. He shook his head in dismay.

"No, no, you've got to get away!"

"Calm down, please!" She begged, grabbing hold of his hands. Her palms were sticky with blood and sweat. "Listen, Jane, I need you to do something for me." This request settled him, forcing him to focus. His heartbeat evened out as he stared into her eyes.

"What is it?" She drew a few shaky breaths before responding.

"I want you to hypnotize me." He blinked at the unlikely answer. Lisbon hated hypnosis. She hated the idea that she would lose her control. She was paranoid that he would use it against her without her consent. That she would willingly ask him to was worrying. His grip on her hands tightened.

"Why? What's wrong?" Her brows knit together and her mouth fell into a pout.

"Please, can't you just…" He shook his head, adamant, and she conceded. "I'm in pain." Lisbon admitted, voice small. "You can make it go away, right?" Fury flared in him, directed at whoever had made the proud and strong agent sound so meek.

"What's he been doing to you?" She wet her lips.

"He woke me up almost an hour ago, I think. There isn't really a way to tell time here. He brought me to another room right outside that door. He has all these… tools hanging on the wall. He said we should let you sleep, considering your insomnia." She gulped. "He's been having fun reopening my wounds, cutting the stitches one by one. He didn't give me a shot of painkiller this time. It was punishment for keeping you to myself." He grit his teeth and tried to exhale the anger away. Lisbon moved her hand further up his arm. "I need to be alert. The pain is making me fuzzy, it's too distracting. I can't be weak right now." Jane scrutinized her face. She was ashamed of asking. She must be in incredible pain to stoop so low. He removed one of his hands and moved the other to her pulse point.

"Lisbon, you'd need to be completely relaxed." He told her, soft and low, his typical hypnotist's tone. It was surprisingly easy to slip in to the role. He could see her succumbing as he spoke. "For this to work you can only focus on me, on my voice, on our breathing. In and out like the ocean tide. In and out, in and out…" The pain must've lowered her defenses immensely because she appeared half asleep already. "Close your eyes and imagine the beach." She obeyed. "Can you smell the sea air, feel the sun, hear the waves?" She nodded faintly. "I'm going to count down from ten now, and with each step you will feel more and more relaxed. Ten, nine, getting more relaxed, eight, seven, your muscles growing lighter, six, five, your mind is freer, four, deeper and deeper relaxation, three, so comfortable, two, you're drifting off…" He leaned the hypnotized woman against his side. "…One." She went limp, her head lolling to rest on his shoulder. Jane took a moment to sigh, inadvertently inhaling her scent. Sweat, blood, and cinnamon.

"Alright, Lisbon, can you hear me?" She mumbled a noise of assent. "I want you to think back to the last time you laughed. Can you describe it to me." A vacant smile graced her features as she reminisced.

"Van Pelt…" She murmured. "We were gossiping…"

"Ah, right, the hot delivery guy." She gave a very half-hearted shrug.

"He's alright." Her grin widened. "You came, teased me about it… it was nice…" Jane paused, enjoying how she took pleasure at the memory. He had to push on though.

"I want you take that feeling and hold it in your mind. It's like a glowing orb of warmth and happiness and laughter. It's like your own little sun. Do you see it?" She nodded. "You can make it bigger, you have that power. If you concentrate you can make it pulse. And when it pulses, it spreads warmth to all of your body. Can you do that for me? Just concentrate on that feeling of joy, comforting all of your aches and pains." A faint line creased her brow. "Shh, relax, it's alright. The pain is only in your mind, and you, Lisbon, are the master of your own mind. It's easy. That memory, that laughter is within your reach, and with it you control the sensations of your body." A look of peace overcame her, and he knew he had succeeded. "Now Lisbon, any time you feel that pain, it will be instantly overtaken by your laugh, by that glow inside you. I'm going to count down from ten again, and when I say one, you will be alert and in control and pain-free. Ten, nine, eight, slowly getting stronger, seven, six, five, you're becoming more alert, four, three, waking up, two, almost there… one." Her head moved away as she inhaled sharply. She blinked rapidly. "Lisbon?" He prodded gently. "How do you feel?" She turned to him, grateful.

"Better." She told him honestly. "Thank you." He shrugged, letting his head hit the cement wall behind them.

"It's the least I could do." He replied with a note of bitterness he didn't bother to hide. "I am the reason he targeted you in the first place."

"Don't say that." She objected quickly.

"It's true. He said as much, didn't he?" Lisbon didn't answer, confirming it. "I am sorry." He continued earnestly, turning a little to better face her. "You don't deserve this. I am going to get you out of here." She mirrored his pose.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I mean it. I have a plan." When she remained doubtful, he cupped her face in his hand. Somehow within the last week, the action had become a habit, one he intended to last. "Trust me." Jane asked. Her expression melted into one of affection, all soft lines and subtle nuances. It was one he found he really liked on her.

"I do." She replied tenderly. "Always." Jane was abruptly hit by a decades-old memory. A blonde in a white veil, with the widest smile he'd ever seen, standing on a beach in front of an ex-minister turned professional fire juggler, saying the same three words. He was struck now, as he had been then, by how right it all felt. All of the confusion and confliction he'd been experiencing over his feelings for Lisbon seemed silly and small.

"Lisbon…" He whispered, at a loss to express his epiphany. She must not have missed his moment of reflection. She shushed him, raising her hand to gently brush her fingertips against his cheek. Teresa leaned forward slowly, allowing him the opportunity to back away. He moved closer instead. They were inches away, their breath mingling in the scant space between them. Her eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated, green irises sparkling. Jane felt a rush of love, yes love, for this woman, the most patient woman in the world.

There was a click and a flash of light. Jane and Lisbon jerked away, staring wide-eyed at the door. A man stood, face hidden behind a large professional camera. Beside him Jane felt Lisbon curl in on herself in fear.

"Oh, that's beautiful." The man remarked in an oily voice that chilled Jane to the bone. He'd heard it before, whispered in his ear as he sat bound in a chair. The man lowered the camera. He smiled. "Hello Patrick."

* * *

><p><strong>Dun, dun, DUH!<strong>

**So, the archvillain finally appears. He has our heros in his clutches. What will he do to them? Find out next week, and remember, only three more chapters to go!**

**Like with virtually every other aspect of this story, I put tremendous thought into the hypnotism scene. For one thing, being from Chicago, I imagine that beaches are an exotic luxury in Lisbon's mind, which Jane capitalizes on when relaxing her. He also emphasized the fact that Lisbon had control over herself, since that's her hangup about the entire process. Hypnosis is about making an unconscious connection in the mind, and when you are happy it's easier to push down pain. So Jane used her feeling of pure mirth to counteract her terrible pain. Gosh I wish he could hypnotize me.**

**Anyway, you'll have all weekend to mull over the possible torture methods/escape plans soon to come. Happy New Year!**

**Looking forward to your feedback,**

**Laury.**


	10. Scarlet

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 10_: Scarlet

Jane stared at the man in the door frame. He had the sort of nondescript face you could see a thousand times and never remember. He had short straight light brown hair that appeared to be thinning on top. He was of average height and weight with a ring of flab showing through his tucked-in button down. A canvas bag was slung over his shoulder. There was dirt under the nails of his large rough hands. The man was smiling benignly, yet Jane could see death in his eyes. He walked in to the tiny room, turning and closing the door behind him. There was a series of clicks signifying their captivity. The man moved to the red armchair, sinking into it with a sigh. He lowered the bag to the floor, set the camera on the table, and clicked off the CD player. The concrete bunker was plunged into grim silence.

"Well," The man began, raising his eyebrows at his two prisoners, "I see you two have been…" There was an insincere pause as he pretended to search for the words, "Comforting each other." Jane narrowed his eyes. The man turned his gaze to Lisbon. "I suppose he's been telling you it's all going to be alright. I'm sorry to inform you, Teresa—"

"Don't call me that!" She snapped, almost by rote. Jane suspected she had been doing that since her first attack. Their captor ignored her interruption.

"—His escape plan has already failed. I shook Kimball about five blocks away from the graveyard." Jane tried to keep his expression neutral. "I know how to lose a tail, I'm not an imbecile. It was a valiant effort though, truly. I was surprised you even allowed yourself a backup. But then, that would be Teresa's influence."

"Don't call me that!"

"I also did a thorough search of the both of you while you were out cold. In case you hadn't noticed, Patrick, I confiscated your little gun." Lisbon turned to stare at him in both confusion and accusation. Jane did his best to ignore her. The man continued almost giddily. "Yes, you are both unarmed and alone, at my mercy. It's like Christmas."

"You're Red John." Jane stated, voice gravelly. The man made a show of rolling his eyes.

"A brilliant deduction."

"I've been wrong before." Jane reminded him. "How can I be sure you are who you say you are?" The man's smile widened. He reached to his canvas bag. From it he drew a heavy bound book.

"My favorite." He told them affectionately. He set it on the ground and slid it towards them. Jane picked it up delicately, resting it on his lap. He opened the cover. Lisbon moved closer to see it as well.

It was a scrap book, and on the first page were still shots from that fateful interview, over nine years ago. Jane shakily turned the page. He blinked rapidly at the gruesome images. Lisbon clutched his arm tightly in sympathy. He flipped through several pages later. There he was entering the CBI for the first time since being held in the mental institution, offering his services to Minelli. Several more pages and he was meeting Lisbon, being incorporated into her team. Jane thumbed through the rest of the album quickly. Cho and Rigsby. Jane. Jane and Lisbon. Lisbon, Rigsby, and Cho. Jane. Jane. Grace and Rigsby. Cho and Lisbon. Jane. Jane and Lisbon. Jane. Cho and Rigsby. Jane and Cho. Jane and Lisbon. Jane. Lisbon. Jane and Lisbon. Jane. Jane. Lisbon. Lisbon with cuts all over her body. He slammed the book shut.

"I have others," The man went on, unperturbed by Jane's volatile state, "But I figured this would be more convincing. Do you think 'Red John' would willingly part with this particular volume?" Jane took a deep breath, pursing his lips. He pushed the scrapbook back across the floor. Red John picked it up, stroking the cover lovingly. He sighed, setting it off to the side. He refocused on Jane and Lisbon. "You have questions." He announced, throwing his arms out invitingly, like a king welcoming his jesters. Jane watched him, silently simmering.

"Why the Q&A?" He asked bitterly. "What's the point?"

"Now, now," The other man tutted, "It's only fair. I know everything about you and your friends. I've been watching you for years. I've seen Kimball kicking himself over letting his superior come to harm. I saw Wayne confess his feelings to Grace as he slaved over a bowl of cookie dough. And I've seen you stumble over your words as you apologized for a heat of the moment slip." Jane swallowed thickly. "The way I figure it," He continued affably, "It's about time I reciprocate. So Patrick, ask anything you like."

"You're Red John." He stated needlessly after a moment. Red John grinned, inclining his head imperiously.

"Yes."

"What's your real name?" He laughed in response, a harsh grating sound like chewing ice or nails on a chalkboard.

"That's a waste of a question. What use is my name to you? I suggest you move on. Our time is limited."

"Why, I thought you foiled my escape plan." Red John merely held his empty grin. Jane let it go. "Where are we?"

"Another pointless inquiry." He waved it away impatiently. "The address doesn't matter. But I will tell you that you are in my house. An offshoot of my basement, to be precise."

"The room out there," Jane gestured with his chin to the door, "You store your tools there?"

"Yes. And very occasionally, such as tonight, it is my workshop. This is… a study, of sorts. Comfortable but secure, for only the most important guests."

"Like us?" Red John nodded. "What do you do when you're not slicing up people?"

"I was an executive for a home security firm. I acquired a lot of knowledge about video surveillance, hacking, etc."

"Was?"

"I quit not too long ago. Next." Jane considered his question carefully.

"You garden, read poetry, and listen to classical music. Why?"

"Wait," Lisbon interjected, "How do you—"

"Shoes, fingernails, and the state of the poppies." Jane answered without taking his eyes off the other man. "I told you about the Blake connection and he's shown an affinity for Bach in the past."

"You mean you got it out of Rosalind." He corrected slyly. Jane said nothing. "Yes, I wondered if I ought to have extinguished her, but I must admit I've always had a soft spot for that woman."

"Really?" He asked skeptically.

"Really." Red John calmly replied. "I even send her gifts from time to time, not that she knows who they're from. A tea set here, a stuffed animal there… And as for your question, I am simply a man of refined taste." Jane scoffed.

"You mean you try to repress the brutal animalistic urge that leads you to kill." His expression mutated at Jane's glib response. His eyes flashed and his smile morphed into a scowl. When he spoke his voice was low and dangerous.

"Oh no Patrick, I don't resist it. It is tempered, yes, but not neglected." Instantly he regained his poise. "Go on, surely you have more pressing questions." Jane decided to get to the heart of his curiosity.

"How many have you killed?" Red John leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers as he pondered.

"Oh it's much more than you proclaimed during your little farce of a trial. I can lay claim to over a dozen unsolved murders across the country, before I took my name. My sister was my first." His eyes lost focus as he drifted back through time. Lisbon inched closer to Jane, seeking his support. He rested his hand on her knee in quiet comfort. "She had the biggest blue eyes. You'd be surprised how much blood can come out of such a tiny person." Red John shook his head, dispelling the memory. "I'd say the number nears 50. Go on."

"'He is mar…' Renfrew wrote it in his own blood. What does it mean?" A shadow passed over his face. He looked deeply weary and forlorn.

"Ah. My old friend was referring to my marriage." Jane blinked. Red John caught his surprise. "What, you thought me incapable of that most basic human desire?"

"You're a narcissist and a psychopath, you can't love." There was a brief flare of fury visible in the other man's face.

"Be sparse with your judgements, Patrick. You and I are more alike than you'd like to believe." Jane narrowed his eyes but let the comment slide. "Even a narcissist can find value in another person through their connection to him. And a psychopath is only considered inhuman by those outside of his madness."

"Folie a Deux." Lisbon murmured. Jane turned to her, mildly shocked. She had remained quiet through much of the proceedings. Indeed, feeling their attention, Lisbon curled in on herself tighter.

"Very good, Teresa." Red John told her patronizingly.

"Don't call me that." She snapped, though without much of her earlier fire.

"We were complements," He went on, "She and I. She was powerful, influential in both politics and police matters. I knew the first time we made love and she encouraged me to carve in her back that I had found my soulmate. No one else could ever compare."

"A sadist and a masochist," Jane remarked, "A match made in heaven. Does she know what you did?"

"I told her early into our marriage. She was understandably shocked, but I revealed more. Since I'd met her, I only killed to protect myself or my reputation. I haven't murdered anyone out of bloodlust for several years now. She was moved by my devotion and gave me carte blanche to fulfill myself and maintain my status. She even gave me access to resources I'd only dreamed of. And, as a public figure, she and I formed quite a vast network, not all of whom were exactly on the up and up."

"Renfrew, Hardy, Rebecca, Stiles, Johnson, and O'Laughlin."

"And they call me a stalker." Red John chuckled lowly. "You're just as obsessed as I am." Jane, suddenly suspicious, tilted his head innocently.

"Are we going to meet the lucky lady? She must be curious as to your latest victims." Again, his expression turned cold and despondent.

"My wife is dead." There was a moment of stunned silence as all three basked in this poetic twist of fate. "Snatched from me by insidious disease. Cancer. It would have been a painfully drawn out end. She begged for release and I obliged out of love. I laid her to rest under the yard. She will yield the most beautiful flowers." Red John straightened up, pulling out of his melancholy. "I have brought you here because of my late love's legacy. She loved to see your surveillance photos. They made her sigh and swoon. She was such a romantic. She would have wanted me to bring you two together, even if it is short-lived."

"Is that why you brought Lisbon into this?" Jane asked, voice rough with barely concealed rage. "To satisfy a dead woman's wishes?"

"Oh no Patrick, she has always been a part of this, from the moment I saw you begin to care for her. I was honest when I explained my motives the first time. She intrigued me, but more than that, your partnership intrigued _us_. I wanted to see how you'd both react after a little goading. And it was entertaining. Though I do feel bad, Patrick, I set our relationship back several steps." Red John turned his attention to Lisbon, oddly eager as he looked at her. "You see, you wouldn't have liked him before I came along, Teresa."

"Don't call me that!"

"Stop calling her that!"

"I made him what he is today." He carried on over their outbursts. "I took a money grubbing worm and transformed him into a humbled man. He works for good now, he is honest at last, and all because of me. I have helped him as much as I could on his journey, what with saving his life, disposing of his enemies, and ensuring our lasting connection."

"You killed Bosco for that file, you sick bast—"

"He is my greatest creation, and you have reaped the rewards. I am glad, you deserve it."

"Shut up!" Lisbon sat up taller, dropping her defensive posture and regaining her intimidating air. "Don't you dare take credit for him. He became a good man despite what you put him through." Jane laid a hand on her arm, settling her. He gently maneuvered her so that she was back in her unobtrusive pose. Red John rolled his eyes.

"How chivalrous, trying to take the focus off of her. Oh well, if she is willing to go along with it, so will I." Lisbon stayed quiet. He checked his watch. "I'll give you one more question. Make it a good one." Jane observed him silently, letting the minutes tick by. Red John stared back impassively.

"What are you going to do with us?" He asked, apprehension clear in every syllable. Red John grinned, as if he'd been waiting for this point for so long. He bent down, retrieving the canvas bag. One by one he pulled out a full syringe, a knife, and Jane's gun. Each was placed with care upon the grey floor. Jane couldn't look away.

"That depends entirely on you, Patrick. I'm flexible. But rest assured, by sundown we will all be dead."

"All?" Jane asked, feeling a thrill of panic run down his spine. Red John nodded.

"Yes. I will be dead as well. I'll either be reunited with my love, or be free the pain of living without her. But, I need closure. Really, I've been seeking closure from you for over a year now, Patrick, but somehow you always manage to pull me back in. So, I devised this little meeting so that we can be through with this once and for all. Originally I didn't plan for Teresa here to join us—"

"Don't call me…"

"But I suppose it's more poetic this way. You will have company on your way out."

"You're not trying to make it out alive." Jane murmured, feeling genuinely frightened. Red John's grin widened maliciously.

"Yes Patrick, I have no exit strategy." His unspoken words crushed in on Jane. _Which makes me all the more dangerous_.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy 2012 everybody! Nothing like a Red John character profile to start off the year. I really hope everyone enjoys my characterization, I put so much thought into it. I must've reviewed every tidbit given on the show twice. Feel free to message me if I missed something or you think I'm an idiot :)<strong>

**I realize that Lisbon seems kind of meek in this chapter, but she's been put through psychological and physical hell by this man, so she is understandably skittish. I have Red John's use of her given name (honestly, if you've been spying on people for years, you're comfortable enough to call them by their first name) to give her the opportunity to show her defiance. Lisbon doesn't let anyone disrespect her.**

**Looking forward to your input,**

**Laury**


	11. Lust

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 11_: Lust

The three remained in relative silence, the heavy breathing of the two prisoners sounding like a cacophony. Red John sat in his armchair with all the dignity of a lord overseeing his peasants. Jane's gaze flitted between the three objects on the floor: the needle filled with a murky mix of amber liquid, the gun Jane recognized as the one he had brought to the cemetery, and the glinting blade of the knife.

"So, what is the nature of this little game?" Jane asked, trying to instill his inflection with as much false bravery as possible. Red John tilted his head, pouting slightly.

"But surely you've already guessed."

"Spell it out for me then." Jane replied stonily. The other man heaved a put upon sigh.

"Fine." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm towards the instruments of death. "You have some choices to make. Who will be killed with what? Think of it like Clue, only backwards."

"You first," Jane replied immediately "Knife, gun, anything." Red John laughed.

"I expected as much, but no."

"I thought I was in charge here."

"You were never in control. Never." He stood from his plush red chair. "Choose. Teresa first." Jane's eyes widened and he glanced at her. Lisbon looked back at him, equally afraid.

"No." He said. "I won't be responsible for her death too." Red John shook his head.

"You have to."

"No!" He objected even more strongly. "I won't do it." Quicker than he could blink, Red John was in front of him, his face inches from his. Lisbon scuttled away in shock and fear. Jane tried to keep his expression blank but he was sure the other man could hear his thrumming heart.

"You will make a choice Patrick, because the alternative is my choice. And I don't need a weapon to kill her. You remember Kristina, don't you Patrick? Sweet thing, I kept her in this very room. She had no marks when you found her and yet she was undeniably broken. How do you think I did that, eh?" Jane didn't answer but his breathing picked up. "I got to know her. I buried into her mind and destroyed her from within. I could do the same thing to Teresa." His arm shot out, pointing at her, but he did not look away. "Granted, she has stronger defenses but she also has more demons. I would let loose those demons and watch her sanity crumble. Would you like to watch? Personally I don't care whether you're dead or alive at that point, the victory will be just as sweet."

"Stop it!" The men started, turning to the corner where Lisbon sat in fetal position. Her gaze was trained on Red John, both loathing and resentful. "Leave him alone! Jane," She looked at him, fortitude shining behind her eyes, "The syringe." His head shook automatically.

"No, no, I can't." Red John straightened with a pleased smile.

"Excellent choice Teresa." Jane was further disheartened when she did not protest the use of her first name. "Swift and painless. A merciful way to go." He walked to the objects on the floor, grabbing the needle and moving back to them. He held out the weapon to Jane, who stared up at him in horror.

"I'm not killing her." He said.

"I insist Patrick." Red John responded firmly. "Remember the alternative." Jane extended a shaking hand. "And," The other man continued, halting him in place, "At least this time you won't have years to wallow in self-pity." With a swift glare, Jane took the syringe. Red John stepped backwards, respectfully giving the couple space. Jane sat still, staring at the instrument in his palm.

He considered his options, few though they were. He could not face the outcome if he complied. He could refuse again, except he was certain that Red John would follow through on his threat. He supposed… he could attack their captor. But Red John did not look weak, and Jane was not exactly skilled at hand to hand combat. Lisbon was injured, even if her pain was reduced, and he did not want to put her in a position to hurt herself further. And even if Jane managed to incapacitate him, they would still be trapped in the room, with Lisbon in no condition to assist in their escape.

He jumped when he felt Lisbon's presence by his side. She held out her arm and gazed at him kindly. He hated the air of acceptance she gave off. Why did she have to be so selfless? Didn't she see he was undeserving of her support? Jane was wondering if he could get away with only injecting her with half when he heard it. A distant crash, as if angels themselves had just barreled through the front door. The needle fell from his fingers as he sagged in relief.

"CBI! Show yourselves!" Red John spun around. Lisbon also jerked in surprise, staring up at the ceiling.

"Cho?" She murmured in disbelief. "Rigsby? How…?" Red John made a strangled sound of rage as he turned to Jane. He looked back defiantly, finally at ease in his control.

"What did you do?" Red John demanded. "I lost them, I know I did."

"Tracking device." Jane shrugged with a small smile. Their irate captor shook his head in valiant denial.

"No, no, I searched you, both of you. There wasn't a thing on you, I know it!" Jane squirmed uncomfortably, mostly for effect.

"Ah, yes, well you see… it wasn't _on_ me, exactly. I swallowed it." Lisbon's jaw dropped.

"You _what_? Jane, that equipment costs thousands of dollars! Who's going to pay for that!" He rolled his eyes.

"Is thatreally what you want to focus on right now?" She bowed her head in agreement.

"Right, right, sorry." She looked at him again, and Jane was pleased to see the spark of hope returning to her eyes. "I can't believe you did that. Jane, that's incredible!" He grinned at her, secretly unbelievably glad that he had not let her down once more.

"Enough!" The two jumped at the yell. Red John stood before them, subtly shaking with either fury or fear. He held the gun in his hand, pointed at Jane. Lisbon shifted closer to him, one of her arms rising to cover his heart. "This doesn't make sense!" Red John railed. "I cut you to the heart! I am the enemy you've been attempting to destroy all these years. You're supposed to be made impulsive by my very presence. How could you do this!"

"You made a fatal error." Jane replied, expression hard and steely. "You took Lisbon. I wasn't about to lose her to my own foolishness. I suppose you taught me that." The other man's face softened in momentary pride, almost like a father to an accomplished son, or perhaps more appropriately, a man to his pet. He glanced to the ceiling, through which the increased sounds of shouting and stomping could be heard.

"They'll be down here soon," Red John said as he faced them again, voice trembling slightly, "But it will take a while for them to get in. I have the only keys and the door is fortified. Still, we must be quick." He approached them. They pressed against the wall as hard as they could. Red John bent down so he was in Jane's face. "You and Lisbon will live." He told them. Jane blinked.

"You're letting us go?"

"No, you're about to be taken from me. But, unlike you, I can see when it's time to let go. I am tired Patrick. I want to die, and I don't want to wait around for a death sentence. And trust me, with the evidence in this house, I would be executed eventually. But we would both be dissatisfied by that scenario, wouldn't we?" He held out the butt of the pistol. Jane stared at the weapon being offered to him.

"No." He turned his head. Lisbon was looking at him beseechingly. "Jane, no, you can't."

"Why not?" Red John asked in a slick and oily tone. "I'm a serial killer, I murdered your family. I'm a monster who ought to be put down. Why not save the courts some paperwork." There was a sudden clamor outside their little cell. A resounding thump against the door jolted them all. The reinforcements would soon break in. Time was running out. Jane tentatively reached for the gun, fingers finding purchase in the grooved handle. Lisbon's objections grew more frantic.

"Jane, listen to me, you don't want to do this!"

"Don't be ridiculous Teresa, it's what he's been after for years, he's told you as much."

"It's what he wants, Jane! He wants you to kill him and… a-and be locked up forever!"

THUD!

"Nonsense, I'm merely offering him a chance that you and the state would never allow."

"Please, Patrick, I'm begging you, don't do it!"

THUD!

"Will both of you," Jane spoke up in frustration, "Just be quiet and let me think."

THUD!

"What's to think about?" Said Red John, raising his voice over the din. "Except your darling wife and daughter. Can you even remember their faces? Their laughs? I took them from you! I am the cause of all your pain!"

THUD!

"They wouldn't want you to do this!" Lisbon yelled, green eyes lurking behind a shroud of tears. "They loved you! They wouldn't want you to throw your life away! Not for him!"

THUD!

Jane squeezed his eyes shut.

THUD!

"Do it! Do it now!"

THUD!

"No! I can't lose you! Not you too!"

BANG!

Their room was suddenly overwhelmed with noise and people. Several members of the SWAT team were crowded around the door. Cho stood between them and Red John, staring at the villain with caution and contempt. Rigsby charged over to Lisbon's side, checking her over hysterically.

"Boss, are you okay?"

"Wayne, wayne," She bat his probing hands away, though she appeared deeply relieved by his presence, "Get off, I'm fine." The agent took her under her shoulders and carefully lifted her up. She smiled in thanks, leaning her weight on him. There was a strange gurgling sound. Jane, whose eyes had remained riveted on Red John through all the action, watched as a blossom of red grew on his enemy's shirt. His eyes were perfectly round with surprise. His hand covered the stain forming over his abdomen.

"Congratulations." He murmured, falling to his knees. No one moved to help him. The gaze of everyone shifted to Jane. He realized belatedly that he was clutching the gun like a vice. He set it on the floor.

"Get out of here," Cho ordered the SWAT team, "Call a bus." The heavily armored men hurriedly obeyed. Rigsby bent down and took the gun.

"Grace will be glad to get this back." His feeble remark was generally ignored.

"You shot him." Lisbon muttered, a note of despair in her voice. "You shot him in the stomach."

"I left it up to chance." Jane replied hoarsely. Red John looked up at him with bitterness, still holding his wound. "I could've shot him in the head or the heart, but this way he has time. He could live. He could not. Funnily enough I don't really care either way. Not anymore." His pronouncement got mixed reactions. Rigsby looked proud while Lisbon was still heavy with disappointment. Cho, blank as ever, walked over to the armchair, at the foot of which sat the knife. He picked it up.

"This man is Red John." He stated. Jane nodded silently. "He threatened you and Lisbon with this knife." He nodded again. "You shot him in self-defense." Another nod. Red John made a noise of dissent, but it was garbled by the blood making its way up his trachea.

"Cho…" Lisbon began wearily, pushing off of Rigsby.

"He acted in accordance with his role as a consultant." Cho said, unrelenting and uncompromising. "He saved your life and countless others that Red John would have killed in the future." What ensued was a battle of wills fought in their shared gaze. Lisbon's commanding bearing met his stony countenance. Finally, her shoulders sagged, her love for her team outweighing her love of justice. She turned, defeated yet content, to Jane.

"Come on." She said softly. "We've got to go to the hospital." She held out her hand. Jane took it. Gently he pulled her towards him so that she could rest on his shoulder. She allowed herself to lean on him, and together they left their little prison.

Cho and Rigsby watched the man on the floor as their colleagues headed up the stairs. Red John was breathing shallowly through his coughs. Blood seeped through his fingers. When the distant sound of the front door clicked, the two agents looked at each other.

"How many shots did you hear?" Cho asked, pulling out his own piece. Rigsby shook his head solemnly.

"Everything happened at once, there's no way to be sure." Red John's eyes widened and he shuddered violently when Cho's foot landed on his bullet wound, holding him in place. Cho cocked his gun, aiming it down at the murderer's head.

"Exactly what I was thinking."

* * *

><p><strong>Ooh… So dramatic!<strong>

**Yes, the heart of the story is over. They've gotten away from Red John, mostly free from harm. All that's left is the cute wrap up to the romance! I hope you enjoy it.**

**As for that sort of quick fix with Cho and Rigsby bursting in at just the right moment, it's not like it doesn't happen often in the show. I feel very special for even including a viable reason. **

**Tune in Friday for the final installment. I'll miss all of your feedback.**

**Laury.**


	12. Rose

**Sanguine Slumber**

_Chapter 12_: Rose

"I still can't believe you got Jane to swallow that thing." Rigsby remarked once again, leaning back in his desk chair with a gleeful smirk. Cho rolled his eyes.

"Really man? Out of everything that's happened this week, _that's_ what you want to fixate on?"

"I mean, come on!" The lanky agent insisted, gesticulating with his arm for extreme emphasis. "Those things aren't exactly tiny. What did you do, clamp his nose and mouth shut?"

"Don't be so dramatic." Cho retorted. The click-clack of heels approached the bullpen, making both agents stop their bantering and glance up. Grace entered the room with an easy smile, sitting at her desk and crossing her legs. She sent them a cheerful wave.

"Hey guys." She greeted. The men swiveled in their chairs to stare at her curiously.

"What's got you so happy?" Cho asked. She shrugged.

"Why shouldn't I be happy? Lisbon and Jane were just released from the hospital, the doctor said they're going to be fine. A terrible serial killer is dead, with no repercussions to us. Plus, I'm pretty sure Jane and Lisbon are going to live happily ever after. It's a good day." Cho snorted, making her frown. "What?" He shook his head, turning back to his paperwork. Van Pelt looked to Rigsby in question. The agent scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well Grace," He began uncertainly, "You made it sound very… er…"

"Naive." Cho supplied without glancing up.

"I am not!" She objected crossly.

"Yeah, you are." The agent continued, this time meeting her affronted expression. "The boss and Jane are not okay. Not only is Lisbon still weak, they've just gone through severe emotional trauma. It'll take a while for them to stop looking over their shoulders. Our team is going to under intense scrutiny for the next few months. We could be suspended. The higher ups might even try to split us up. And as for Lisbon and Jane's," He used air quotes here, "'Relationship', they sure as hell aren't living happily ever after. They're too damaged. No, they're going to fight and fight and retreat to their corners to lick their wounds. They'll kiss and make up but then they'll do it all over again. Maybe, eventually, they're going to make it work, but not anytime soon." Grace sighed.

"I know, I know." She responded. "Forgive me for trying to look on the bright side of things." Rigsby sent her a supportive smile, which she returned. "Still," She went on determinedly, "It could've been much worse." Both men made noises of agreement. Grace stood, sauntering over to them. "So, what were you two talking about?" Rigsby clapped his hands together, regaining his exuberant giddiness.

"Just how unbelievable it is that Jane actually ate that tracking device."

"Well, he did it for love." She pointed out sweetly. Cho shot her a stern look and she raised her hands in surrender. "I can't believe that plan actually worked." Van Pelt said instead.

"Hey, that tracker's military grade. If it can transmit through concrete, it can get through flesh." Cho answered.

"Wouldn't stomach acid or something screw it up?" Rigsby asked. His friend shrugged.

"Maybe, but that stuff is tough, it could withstand it for a while."

"So how long is he gonna have that thing, you know…_ inside him_?" Cho looked up, brushing his pen across his chin.

"Hmm… I'd guess a maximum of 36 hours."

"Do you think it's still transmitting?" Van Pelt asked with a mix of curiosity and revulsion.

"Probably." There was a pause as the three agents considered this rare opportunity. They shared a shifty glance.

"We shouldn't." Rigsby said.

"It's completely unethical." Grace agreed.

"I'm pulling it up now." Cho told them, typing furiously. The others clustered around his computer, all three jostling each other in their eagerness. Cho pulled up the window and they watched the loading bar with baited breath. Finally, a map appeared, with a tiny pin in the middle. The agents went over the address in their minds and simultaneously arrived at the same conclusion. Grace gasped.

"Lisbon's place?" The two men nodded. There was a long stretch of silence.

"Any chance we can tell if they're in the bedroom?" Rigsby asked. Cho slapped him upside the head.

* * *

><p>Jane and Lisbon sat in silence on her couch. Her gaze flitted restlessly around the room while his remained stoically fixed on the dried blood still clinging to her coffee table. He held his clasped hands over his knees. They were both deep in thought, had been since making their way from the hospital. An important conversation was inevitable, but they were both putting it off.<p>

Jane hadn't been lying when he said he didn't care whether Red John lived or died. He too was tired of the game. And now that his adversary had succumbed to his injuries, he was free to heal. Except… he expected to feel lost after his quest was done. He expected to be devastated after years of delaying his grief for his family. He expected to run away and isolate himself while he dealt with this great upheaval. But surprisingly… he didn't feel any of that. He was relieved. That was all. Could it be that, over the years, without him knowing it, he'd already begun to heal? If he had, he knew it was the sole work of the woman beside him.

Lisbon sighed in resignation.

"We should…" She started hesitantly, "…Probably start talking." Jane nodded. "And we should probably be able to look at each other." She pointed out. He smiled and lifted his head. Lisbon watched him with trepidation, biting her lower lip. She was beautiful in her uncertainty.

"I'm glad you're okay." He said, voice low and gravelly. She accepted this with a nod.

When he didn't go on, she prompted him with, "Are we going to discuss, well, _him_?" Jane shrugged.

"Why should we? We already talked about him enough while he was alive." He saw her doubtful frown. "Later." He assured her. "We have time." She nodded again. There was an awkward pause. She shot him a sidelong glance as he struggled to form words. "And, uh…" He cleared his throat. "I guess I ought to tell you I have… feelings for you." Jane shook his head at his own nervousness. "Er, _romantic_ feelings for you, that is."

"I thought you'd be better at this." Lisbon remarked, smirking slyly at his fumbling. He rolled his eyes.

"Give me a break, it's been a while since I've had to seriously woo anybody." She scoffed.

"Obviously, if you're using words like 'woo'." Jane huffed a laugh at her snarky retort. They shared a soft smile. This was better. This was more like them. "Well," She continued, straightening and regaining her inner strength, "If we're stating the obvious, I guess I should tell you that I have romantic feelings for you too." He heaved a theatrical sigh of relief.

"Oh good. I tell you those mixed signals were driving me crazy." She punched him in the arm. He winced. "I was right, you do hit like a girl." Her arm reared back a second time, and he hurriedly added, "A very tough, muscled girl. Like a female body builder." Appeased, she returned to her docile stance. There was a significant lull in conversation. Lisbon turned her body on the couch so that she fully faced him.

"So what happens now?" She asked briskly. Jane matched her position and raised a hand to her cheek. He smiled at the now familiar feel of her smooth skin.

"I don't know." He admitted as he trailed his fingers down her neck. Her lashes fluttered as she fought to keep her eyes open.

"You?" She replied, wry sarcasm undercut by her breathiness. "Not know something? I thought I'd never see the day." He hummed in amusement, delicately tracing the dip in her clavicle.

"I expect," He began nonchalantly, "There will be a lot of talking." She nodded, finally giving in and closing her eyes as his hand traveled to her shoulder. "Probably about very deep topics that we'd ordinarily never discuss."

"Fighting." She added absently. "There will be fighting."

"Yes, but not too much if we can help it." Jane agreed. He brushed his fingers up and down her arm. Lisbon let out a tiny noise of contentment. "Dinners," He continued, "And maybe dancing. I liked dancing with you."

"Me too." She murmured. She pursed her lips. "There has to be kissing." She told him more assertively. "That's nonnegotiable."

"Oh definitely." He readily replied. "Plenty of kissing. Our lips will get sore and our tongues will be tied." She laughed, opening her eyes. Lisbon gazed at him, jade irises dazzling in their open affection. His hand stopped its caressing, instead gently encircling her arm to hold her above the elbow.

"And there'll be other things." She finished softly, eyelids at half mast over dilated pupils. Both of their hearts beat just a little bit faster. Jane smirked.

"Yes." He said, slowly pulling her closer. "Wonderful, astounding, and fantastic other things."

* * *

><p><strong>And as they say, that's all she wrote.<strong>

**I feel so formal. Maybe because I'm sad to see it go. This is one of my favorite stories. I'll dearly miss it.**

**I'd like to thank all my lovely reviewers for accompanying me on this journey. I never dreamed I'd get such positive and insightful feedback. You're all darlings. I wish I could share with you every thought that went into writing this, but I suppose it's better to show, not tell.**

**I made a little trailer for this story which is posted to my YouTube. If you're interested, check my profile and click the link that says Homepage.**

**No doubt I'll continue writing Mentalist fanfiction. The source material simply begs for elaboration. But for now, I bid you adieu.**

**Love,**

**Laury the Latrator.**


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